The Sea Captain's House
There is a is tall narrow house down the road from my home. It is bright yellow and 150 years old. It was built by a sea captain who was going blind and finally came home for good. His cleats and hooks are still there. The glass is so old that it has rippled downwards. They distort the reflections into abstractions. The images change with different times of the day and season. They are ephemeral. The frames locate me while I drift somewhere between the windows, inside or outside. There is mystery. The experience is of transient beauty, sometimes vibrant, sometimes serene, sometimes both.