A path to nowhere

A photograph can make you remember just in the lines and colors of the ink. It reaches beyond the limits of your sight. It pauses time and motion in the way your eyes could never do. A photograph captures a moment that can disappear within a blink, and then that moment is secured, imprinted forever.

Path provided just enough context for me to be still lingering on the mystery. Enough of a story for me to be guessing for the next chapter. It hangs on this white wall and in my curiosity, i’m left to imagine the extensions of the frame to what I've seen before. But yet, I'll never really know what truly lies ahead.

I stare down the photograph. This really reminds me of home.

It reminds me of the path I take down to the field from my house. I walk down the dirt till I reach a clearing. Old lampposts fade into the distance. Car tracks disappear from sight. There are train tracks running along me, and the vines grow over the rusted cargo carriages. These tracks were my playground when I was little. I sit on the edge of the cart and watch the sun set behind the horizon. I used to catch butterflies here, running through the field and have picnics in the grass. Now I‘ll wake in the morning dew.

But it's funny, I know very well this is not a photograph of my home.