4 minutes 25 seconds| Travologue in episodes.
The time stamp of creation: 6/22/09. Two different moods are joined together. The first is ominous while the second doesn’t have a care in the world. The original title of this piece was Road Atlas Pompeii.
Novel-in-Progress, excerpt 51| More description:
Hanging this calendar was the nephew’s one pitiful attempt at home decoration, yet it indicated nothing of his taste. Little was brought with him when he moved into his aunt’s house, and as the new custodian he could not explain his unease about disturbing her belongings. It was several weeks before he changed the bedding, and similarly her clothes were left hanging in the closet while his remained in boxes in the floor..
Bedroom furniture with no obvious home was parked along a wall in the central hallway. (This was harder to ignore.) A jewelry box jutted precariously from the corner of the high chest like a finial. His aunt’s scoliosis had denied her access to its contents for years, though from appearance she had coaxed the object (or at least the doily under it) as close to the ledge as she dared without risk of toppling it.
A decision was made about moving the obstructing cabinet after dinner, and the mover’s first shove succeeded only in sending the jewelry box crashing to the floor and scattering its treasure. The setback was temporary, and while relocating the chest of drawers to a pantry, a cobweb of baroque ambition, drooping from the pull-down attic stairs in the ceiling in the same hallway, was swept away in the bargain. It was the occasion of two birds and one stone.
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