DIALOGUE – WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE – OLD NUMBER TWO
Views of my favorite old fire engine. I know, on one level, that he is an inanimate object. A truck. Metal and glass and rubber. An engine that ceased running years ago. A fire truck whose time came and went.
Despite knowing this, I feel like this old truck holds history in his rusty body. Memories. Fires, rescues. History.
I know I’m not the only one who feels this way because the countryside has many veteran trucks and other vehicles quietly rusting in fields, often keeping company with the growing corn and the grazing cows and sheep.
We invest our things with personality. Maybe we can’t help it. We are alive and we share at least the sense of life with those things with which we share our world.
Categories: #Photography, Blackstone Valley, Cars and Trucks, Transportation
The life stories/memories of inanimate objects…I completely understand. I tend to feel the stories of old houses…the life they’ve seen, the stories captured in their walls, the changes in the world it has seen. If the walls could talk, I would be the willing listener.
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Old houses can be very chatty and full of ghosts. Until this house, we lived in many old houses. I think the last place we lived on Beacon Hill had been around since Paul Revere and I’d swear they planned the Revolution in the living room.
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Ha! I love it! Old farm houses speak the loudest to me, though i really haven’t explored the east coast…those old colonials could tell their stories at me. 😉
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Fantastic and fascinating interpretation of the subject!!
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Thank you 🙂
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I especially love the last photo with the broken window glass. It’s telling us the story of a well lived life.
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Thank you 🙂 And a retired engine, holding a million memories.
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Wonderful stories in these.
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Yes, indeed there are. I try to listen when Old Number 2 whispers.
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Tommy The Torch probably has an autographed photo of old #2.
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Ouch 🙂
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Such a great oldie to photograph and capture. Wonderful shots.
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And so near the house. I’ve been following Old Number 2 for more than 10 years, how his fortunes have risen and fallen … remembered sometimes, forgotten at others. I like visiting. I figure he must get lonely.
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