I’m curious about the random objects we leave behind. The solitary items that are lost or discarded or sometimes intentionally placed. The ones we stumble upon every once in a while during our travels that make us wonder, What happened here?
Our trash tells the truth, especially when it’s in the context of a layered heap. Archaeologists love that stuff. They can reconstruct a past culture’s values, organization, and behaviour based on what is, essentially, very meticulous garbage-sifting.
But our former possessions can also spark the imagination. They’re a physical connection to the past, to people and events we’ll never fully know or understand. They meant something to someone, once, or maybe they still do.
This rusting metal rim is hanging from a dead tree on the side of a country road.
Is this a memorial of some kind? Did it fall from passing farm machinery and land there accidentally, or did someone consciously decide to accessorize this tree with a shiny hoop?
I don’t know, but it’s fun to keep guessing.