novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- moving on sunday we searched for cardboard boxes, driving through packing alleys hidden behind grocery stores. we didn't find any, but later that night someone in the apartment building next door set out a dozen or so, carefully broken down and sandwiched inside three bigger boxes. i hauled one inside and pulled out the folded boxes, refolding their ends. the box neighbors are two people. i decided this after i noticed that the boxes were labelled with black sharpie scrawled in loose printing: "my shoes." "my skateboard shit." a few were written on in neat, cursive ballpoint: "linens." "kitchen utensils." at the bottom of the biggest box were two photographs cut to the same size. they were probably fitted into the same frame at one time. one was of a man with a baby face holding a cup of coffee in the woods. he smiled slightly at the camera, eyes soft. he looked like he might skateboard. the other picture was of a group of three women holding drinks at a party, hugging and grinning. i decided the girl on the end was my neighbor: her posture mirrored her handwriting. perfect, neatly pulled back hair. this morning on my way to work i set the photographs side by side on the empty ground where i found the broken down moving boxes. i don't know if the couple was moving out or moving in. ending or beginning. 9:43 am - 05.18.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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