Same. The secret treasures I am finding in Boston this year have been whispering tales and unearthing histories that have reshaped my perspective on where we live, how we live, and maybe who we are. As the veneers fleck away, we have the shoes to ask whether we want to know why the facade didn’t hold, or simply turn away and declare it ugly. I like stories, so I get curious. And it’s in the small details that the juiciest, most dramatic, most fabulous, and purely terrifying tales come to life. But we see decay, or disorder, or trouble, and we turn away, and miss out on the real treasures. We would rather regale ideas of fine architecture, or glorious scenery, or boisterous travel, or sublime indulgence. And we miss the parts of the story that are more than willing to wrap around us and hold us and fill us with hope and wonder.
Which is why, I suppose, they remain secrets, rusting on corners, anathema, anachronistic, and utterly cool. Maybe I’ll tell the winding tale of dominance and displacement that swirled around this fascinating, teeny detail I bungled across recently, in a corner of Boston only really known to the people who live there. I researched a tale that almost made me cry, but also was inspirational. I’ll consider it in an upcoming post.
For now, let’s just pause and contemplate why it is that we too quickly forsake our curiosity via our demand for satisfaction. ▫️ #secretboston #Roxbury #Boston #19thcentury #rust #decay #gothic #creepy #spooky #iron #ironworks #craftsmanship #urbandecay #mystery #ghosts #haunted #hauntedBoston #heritage #akaXN #TheRealXN (at Roxbury, Boston) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHdPXYQD8sA/?igshid=17qgtpfbzhqp8