Life in a small town is the noise between the notes. Left behind on the walls and bricks. The sticks of lives. Behind the notes, something different is told. Of those who stayed and those who went. Read a thousand different ways. Always remaining silent as to the truth.
Marks on the wall, rubble, empty storefronts, parked art with signs no longer understood, lingering hues of colors worn and tags of those who moved on.
They caught the train or road north or south. Remembered they will through, the notes of a small town...
David Young