(no subject)

[heknowsme]

there are ghosts wandering these streets, i'm fairly certain. i know i'm not imagining whispers in the air - this friendly heaviness i feel can only be their collective sigh, following me down the sidewalk and meeting me around every corner. too many doors are closed and locked, too many windows reveal only dusty remains of once flourishing businesses: banks, print shops, pharmacies, art galleries, and restaurants. other windows are simply covered, waiting it seems, but for whom? once vibrant and bold, painted signs are chipped and fading, still advertising goods or services long-disappeared. i don't mean to suggest that anything here is very dark or frightening; the haunting i would describe is only nostalgic. i wonder if cleveland's past truly was more vivid than the present, or if i just imagine a sad kind of charm to love about this town.

of course, there is a hidden life even on this side of cleveland, and sometimes, like when there are car shows or halloween festivals, it rises up and defies the resounding stillness. this place isn't dead, even though the playgrounds are slightly decrepit and always empty, even though there are plenty of cars and no people, and even though the law offices are the only successful businesses left. it's almost as though yesterday and today keep up a steady dialogue, neither quite willing to relinquish their position.

maybe. maybe it's not like this at all. i just can't quite come up with the right words for it tonight. oh well.