Junkyard Dreams
“And the rest is stardust and rust”
This past summer - I guess I could say - way back in the summer of 2024….
(yes, I am behind - life has a way of marching)
Anyways. Cody asked me if I wanted to go to the junkyard to see if we could pick a part for Molly. Well.
First - I have never been to one, and second. I couldn’t imagine anyplace more curious to go on a weekend morning. On the way, Cody asked me - what do you think it will be like? I said - I have absolutely no idea.
Well.
The yard was full of orderly rows of discarded dreams, smushed and cracked notions of good ideas and forgotten backseat moments forever lost. Shades of the good ‘ole days - dimly glimmering under rusted hoods.
What a place. What an uncommon place to be. I loved it.
Imagine the stories rusting on blocks in neat rows - tidy chaos. Every day, a little bit more of you walks away with the might of bruised knuckles - towed away in squeaky carts.
An autopsy room, baking under the sun. Patients opened up, engines lying dormant. Hoses and wires - tangled and frayed.
A curious place to wander - stepping past gapping grills, torn seats and excavated trunks. Treasures ripped out, compared, discarded or taken. Evaluated not for what you once were, or could be - but what could be taken from you.
From broken bobs and bits to maybes and possibilities to dreams.
Junkyard dreams…
…eroding under the weight of the sky.
