there is a store on the street next to ours that is often filled with gentlemen. some gents wear tanned overalls with carpentry tools swinging like pistols from their waistbands. some others are suited up in torn denim and worn baseball caps.
from the men gathered outside you could assume it is a certain type of hows your father store. it is actually a cave of reclaimed building materials, filled with salvaged cabinets, beautiful old bathtubs, delicate screws and hinges, and wooden chapel pews.
since we are moving home so soon it seemed like a good day to stop in away from the murky storm clouds. the whole store smells of wood chips and tobacco. today the guy behind the counter serenaded us with a country and western tune on his guitar as we browsed. cc of course twirled and clapped him and left tiny footprints in the dust.
this was cc once we arrived back home, sat up to his miniature tiled table for a snack of soya milk and homemade trail mix of dried fruits, banana chips and cereal.
and after an afternoon of packing a sleepy cc at supper time tonight, transfixed by a sepia film of a smouldering marlene dietrich.