A picture can tell a thousand stories for the one who took it. I took this one almost six years ago and it's been on my mind for the last few days. If you were to look at this picture you'd probably just notice a rundown house that's been painted pink, a lot of bars that seem to protect the house from intrusions, and a beat up car that you'd assume might or might not work. You probably would have never guessed that a few weeks prior to the taking of this picture there had been a dead cat underneath the car that had decomposed to the point that even the maggots were starting to retreat. The smell it produced permeated every corner of the house. When I tried to dispose of the pitiful carcass it split in half and fell from the shovel I was using. As the two halves hit the ground they sent up a cloud of thick decomposition smell that made me throw up.
This was only one of the houses that I lived in while I was in Puerto Rico. It's situated about half a mile away from a beautiful beach and half a mile away from some of the most dangerous parts of the island. Parts of the island that I wasn't permitted to go into because of fear that I wouldn't ever come out. I wasn't a loud to have a car or a bike because people said they'd get stolen within a day. There are so many bars on the house because of this fear. On the outside gate there were two locks, on the inside gate there were two more plus a dead bolt. The door that led into the house had three locks, and in order to get around to the back of the house where I hung up my laundry, I had to unlock two more locks. The fresh city breeze (car exhaust mostly), was the only source of air conditioning that I had during the day. The window you see on the left hand side of the house led to the room that I used to study and get dressed. I had a desk which was made from turning an old door on it's side and propping it up with milk crates. I had no dressers so my clothes got piled into the milk crates.
I've been thinking a lot about this house because it was here that my health turned against me. I'm not going to sit here and give you all a sad story. I have a lot of memories of this house because everyday for 6 weeks I sat in a chair, staring at twin-mini fridges, wishing that I could go outside. I sat in a chair and threw bread at a bird who flew threw the bars and onto our little porch. The picture was taken on the day I went home from Puerto Rico to have surgery done. A surgery they said would help me be "healthy" again. I took this picture in a moment of bitterness. When I got to this house was healthy. I didn't know that one of the mosquitoes that flew into that window everyday was going to give me dengue fever. I have a lot of memories of this house because I spent 6 weeks doing nothing but observing it's intricacies. People don't live in this house anymore and I can understand why. When I lived there it was beyond falling apart. When I left it was ready to crumble. When I look at this picture though, one question still comes to mind. Who's car was that?
-Jeremy-
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