When I was a senior in high school, I participated in a film program in the Reynoldstown area. I would take Marta then skate around the Inman Park/Reynoldstown area just to pass time before it started. I spent a lot of time by myself my senior year because I did full-time dual enrollment. These moments were the first time where being alone wasn’t a burden. I discovered I had a weird pull towards the houses that I would see. Tall and grandeur, the houses captivated me because the architecture was such a clear and beautiful display of history. Always accompanied by my camera, I would take pictures of the exterior of the houses and imagine myself living in the neighborhood
Today, I walked through the neighborhood with my friend. We fantasized about community living in a gigantic house and a seemingly stress-free life growing up in a neighborhood like this. The house I chose, is my friend’s favorite. While I do love this house, it is not my favorite but it is symbolic to me because about two years ago I took a picture of another one of my friend’s standing in front of this house. This area will probably always symbolize the moment where I felt a little bit of independence and freedom for the first time, no matter how shallow those feelings were in hindsight. I’ll always remember skating the big wide streets, my only care being a car hitting me. It’s weird I’ve associated such strong feelings to a neighborhood and houses I’ve never lived in.
For some reason, this house is the only one blurred out on this street. I’m not sure what that means, but I guess I chose the most mysterious house on the block.
