It was all out on the street, up the street. Not quite like the above. No person sitting, in shock.
They had already been moved away. Knew them, for decades.
This was the rest of the family, throwing out whatever was of no value to them. Piles and piles and piles.
No thought of taking the time to call a charitable organization who might take it away, to give away to those in need, or to resell to finance further social good. No thought of actually taking anything to any charitable organization. Too much time, too much effort.
And then they went away, leaving the piles on the lawn.
And so people started to drive by and stop to pick, like flies of sorts.
Some of the upscale looking around, with some sense of…maybe this is not quite…
Couldn’t watch any more of it. Couldn’t take a picture of it.
Driving back, after 11 p.m. In the darkness, somebody was still picking, flashlight shining.
Today, all that remained compacted in trash trucks, and gone.
More than things, some sense of a life, of lives.
And more than