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In the old farmhouse, the afternoon sun filters through the broken kitchen window. A towel still hangs on the glass towel rod, the sink full of debris.
Since the last time I was here, the stairs have deteriorated and are tricky to climb. Upstairs, the contents of the drawers have begun to rot. An old lace tablecloth is salvagable. I find a driver's license - 1947. And a round powderbox.
The ultimate voyeur - a photographer - living the ultimate voyeur's dream. Browsing through another era's belongings without fear. Speculating on another's life.