Directly before sitting down to write day 117’s post, I decided to go on a jog. While weaving my way through the hood I was excited to see a sign for an estate sale. Changing route I made my way over to the house and walked in; curious to see what I couldn’t live without.

My anticipation quickly turned to a feeling of uneasiness. I’ve been to an estate sale before and realize that they are typically held when someone has either passed away or foreclosed – neither great situations. But this one felt different. People were everywhere. The house I entered no longer felt like a home but a clearinghouse of used goods whose owner was suddenly forgotten and whose personal items were being rifled through, groped, and nabbed without second thought. Here I was, in this once lovely home that now felt broken up into sections with only hints remaining of what it once was. I quickly turned and left.

As I finished up my jog I realized how much the piece I had just created made me think of the situation I had walked into. The flower – like the house – had been gridded off into sections. The pretty was still there, but for all that was happening around it, it was hard to see.