The old shed behind my uncle's home served as a "catch all," a place where the unused and unwanted were stored until some future day, a time when the discarded tools, chipped dishes, non-working appliances, and broken furniture would magically disappear...hopefully. Periodically, he and I would wander out there, supposedly looking for something. I was always fascinated by not only the amount, but the variety of the junk. If asked, my uncle would recite the history of each piece, and in that telling, the items there in the semi-darkness, gained value, a strange beauty somewhat. His stories, as only he could tell them, bestowed an intrinsic worth to items that anyone else would have carted off to the garbage or nearest flea market. Words woven into stories from a lifetime of living, made all the difference. This painting depicts a corner of the darkened shed with a rickety chair and old lantern made lovely by the power of words.
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