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Photographer's Note

"I can't remember when they left. But I do know when she died. Since that day, they've been trying to sell me. They don't want me. I'm useless. It wasn't so long ago when they played in my backyard with their bikes and their toys and all; one day they even broke one of my windows with their football. Those were the days when all the trams of the city stopped just opposite, at the other side of the avenue. But they grew up, and went away. And then they only came back on Sunday, for lunch, with their new families. Their children can't play in my backyard, though, because they sold it long ago; now there's a house there. I knew I would miss her when she died. She couldn't take care of me, couldn't paint me. But she loved me. Now she's gone. And I'll soon be gone too, as soon as they are offered the thousands of euros they want. Like María's house. It used to stand where that tall building is. Or Luis's house. They're all gone. I'm just waiting for the vultures to come."

One of the old small houses around my block of flats.
Altenative titles: "Waiting for the vultures", "Chromodecadence"

I hope you like it. Cheers!

Truja, xuaxo, jguisado marcou esta nota como útil

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Additional Photos by Ines Montenegro (abanibi) Gold Star Critiquer/Silver Workshop Editor/Gold Note Writer [C: 217 W: 48 N: 259] (749)
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