Not since January 2nd has a home been erased. Demolition machinery remain frozen in the same spot, week after week. No new graffiti of significance, no burns, nothing. The only change in the past three weeks has been a roof finally giving out on Woodford Way. All three houses remaining on this street now have their overhanging facades kissing dirt.
I went out of town for my three-day weekend to visit some friends. Flying out of Lambert, the plane went right over Carrollton. From above I took mental notes on each of my decaying little subjects below. On the plane, I kept thinking about my latest photographic expeditions in Carrollton. The area continuously beckons me to come look for anything yet undiscovered, like some modern anthropologist. It politely begs for me to find and document every trace of its not-too-distant past when humans called it home. Carrollton inspires me, saddens me, enlightens me, excites me, and enrages me all at the same time. It makes me nostalgic, yet forces me to realize that there will be a future and it will be very different from its past. This is Carrollton’s evolutionary process; I’m just caught in the grief-to-acceptance phase the former residents are still in.
My plane flew out and came back in on the old runway. Not surprising to me, but it was kind of a letdown. Yes, as contradicting as it sounds, I was somehow hoping to fly in on the new runway. Physically occupying a tiny part of the new structure for a small window of time maybe would have been proof that there was a need for W-1W. Sure, I have seen many planes land on it. Some I have seen come in while I am documenting the area. Considering that I now live in the flight path a good distance away from Bridgeton, I glance up and gage their direction, thus knowing which runway the planes are headed towards. Over 90% of what I see fly the old path in the sky.