Thursday, March 22, 2007


It's grey outside today, and clumps of brown snow lie everywhere in Blissville. I took this photo a month ago at the close of a frigid Sunday in January. I haven't visited since, but surely the structure is further along now.

I cling to my memories of the neighborhood as it once was. Only some of us now remember that five years ago this was a stone mason's yard. Its owner, when I glimpsed him, was wizened and sturdy. We waved to each other, but we never spoke.

I'm sure he did well, within sight of the cemetery, just down the block. So perhaps he had no one to pass it down to, perhaps the neighborhood prices for land were too high to turn down. Perhaps the market for hand-crafted headstones had shifted. Whatever the reason, he sold. For a year or more, the land sat vacant.

And now this.

But still surprises lurk as I found out that Sunday, when I followed the lines of the grey newcomer. Although I knew I didn't want to live there (being next to the Long Island Expressway), I wanted to imagine its space. And so I looked for its corners and its views.

But I couldn't find the two back corners that would mark its floorplan, and I had to retrace my steps. I found a single corner instead. Which makes it perfect Blissville, where triangular buildings abound.


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