I see dead people.

Another saturday brought another road trip to Motley's Auction Co., the 2nd best junk store on the planet (see future post on "Shark Shoal Shanty"). Calling it a "store" is a bit misleading perhaps, more like "two quonset huts and a big prefab shed full of old crap". Their photo collection (more like "20 overflowing shoeboxes on a dusty shelf") seems to have been amassed from estate sales over a period of 50 years, so in one handful you have a fading tin type from the turn of the century while in the other you have a full-color snap of grandma getting drunk on the couch back in '89. History is thus thrown into a state of photographic confetti, and even the most mundane subjects, simply by virtue of being photographed, take on an air of importance. The one above, for example, comes from Medan, Indonesia, if the envelope in which it was found is any indication. Here are some of the others I came home with.


Also from Medan.



An infestation.



Old man Stuart and his dog Crowbar.



"And I told him that buying that damn dog made him look a tad effeminate, but did he listen? Of course not..."



She stole my heart away with those boots...



...but I'm left wondering what they're all doing on a roof, as well as what's going on in the back row. A pinched ass, perhaps?


Totally.


And finally, I'd like to introduce the Orsova. Dig the stamp (see future post, "Postage stamps from the Periphery").




A lot of resources on this one; sadly it seems she's dead now.

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