I love stumbling upon scenes like this. There is something strangely inspiring about poking around someone’s former dwelling, long abandoned and left for dead. What circumstances led to this? Who lived here? Did a child grow up and learn to walk on under this roof?
Janet and I spend a lot of time driving the back roads of New Brunswick and at times, certain scenes, old buildings, and junk piles seem to shout to us. It’s almost like they know we’re two of the last people on earth who give a shit.