Photograph. October 23, 08:45 A.M. Entryway:
The house has been abandoned. The front door stands open. There are signs of forced entry here—cracked wood around a canted doorknob. The photo frames the gaping maw, a large rectangle around a smaller nested frame. The welcome mat is cut in two by the image’s edge. }“
A wedge of sunlight illuminates a Persian rug on the other side of the doorway—an indistinguishable black and red scene spread across the white tile floor. Windblown leaves and pieces of junk mail form patterns on the tile and on the rug, describing eddies and gusts, describing neglect and desolation. It is a language punctuated by streaks and blobs of mud.
In the background, the house disappears into depthless gloom, hidden away from the sun’s feeble reach. There’s a portico back there, leading toward the rear of the house, and the dim outline of a staircase—graduated shades of gray reaching up toward the top of the frame.
There’s a landing at the top of the stairs. And in the corner, away from the ledge: two pinpricks of light, hidden in the dark shadows. Lidded slits, reflecting a glimmer of electric red. A shiny metallic pink.
Eyes. Animal eyes. Peering down at the camera. Peering down at the photographer.