Susannah Place Museum
Nothing
Not once enough for the walk along with a Ticket Through Time, a return alone to Susannah Place Museum starts off with a sense of resetting the clock.
Previously, one week ago, with but an hour to spare and peruse the four terraces of dank and rank mould and whatnot, the comparison over that with an extra half hour is barely considerable. Even longer perhaps.
Sifting through the chipping sands of time to capture and soak once again in the glory days of a decrepit and crumbling living museum, there's a twist of balance which occupies the mind.
Catching the step over doors between that late afternoon trickle and well away from school kids otherwise in classrooms spins some more alone time. With not another soul in the day, its losing the time keeping an eye out for dust and creaking floorboards whispering the threat of falling out from under.
Four of the terraces in within the hour, and tiptoeing around a comatose cat asleep in the third, the flashy skin of tourist shorts, local and international, begins on walking out.
On the perimeter, taking shots back in over the yard, a white haired residential passer-by is unsuspecting in trying to perform the impromptu duties of a custodian.
Turn around and it's all gone.
Soon Van - Friday, 13 October 2006 - 18:08
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Previous entries on Nothing
- Sea of dry sauce in a Hooters booth
- Flipping coins into the window
- Cutting through with Everests
- Goat walks into the wrong side of the fence
- Losing the sole
- Gin and tonic for the Adam's apple
