cabaretic

I visited the house where this all occured. Made myself get up early and walk down there.

I was reminded of an interview conducted with Maya Angelou. She was back in her old Arkansas hometown, talking about the train tracks that separated black from white, and even though the days of segregation were long past, even thirty years later, she still didn't want to cross the train tracks into the formerly whites-only section.

The house is two and a half miles from where I live now. Its drab green facade has since been repainted to a less offensive beige...the yard is in better upkeep, but to me, it will have a perpetual shroud of grey and black around it.

Have you ever felt as though you were in the presence of something evil? You can't quite account as to why...but the instant you get within a few feet of it, you felt the linger of pain and anguish and a million terrible things...

This is how I felt. I didn't linger long. I didn't step inside, naturally...but I revisted this place hoping I could put the past behind me and move on.