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Posted on 2006.10.26 at 06:25
Fort Worth has a lot of old grain silos that are no longer in use. Most of them look like they are about to fall down. When I was a teenager my friend took me to one, but this one wasn't deserted. It was being used as a wholesale import warehouse. I almost didn't believe him as we drove up to the front. It looked deserted, but the front door had a sign on it saying imports. We went inside and there were two Asian people behind a desk stacked high with cardboard boxes and looking at us like we were crazy. He waved at them and motioned for me to go to the right. I gave an apologetic smile and turned the corner. It was dark and the whole place smelled like moldy bamboo and green brass. There were metal shelves maybe nine foot tall stuffed with crumpling boxes full of flea market fare. It was just us two in this giant maze of merchandise. I was brave enough to peak into a few boxes and find mostly broken porcelain masks and any number of trinkets mass produced overseas to be sold to silly Americans. We didn't stay very long, but this place has been in my dreams since then... this looming graveyard of things made with hands owned by people paid with pennies.


border_autist at 2006-10-27 00:57 (UTC) (Link)
Are you sure it wasn't a dream originally? ;>) It sounds like a pretty freaky place.
"I am a memory of me."
athea at 2006-10-27 05:52 (UTC) (Link)
As sure as one can be about any memory.
_mike_y_ at 2006-10-27 04:10 (UTC) (Link)
I've heard of the place. It really exists (or existed years ago anyway.) My mom went thru a phase where everyone in the family got the same imported gifts and she talked about that place in the silo.
"I am a memory of me."
athea at 2006-10-27 05:55 (UTC) (Link)
It was a strange place.
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