Video stills from a thermal camera. Printed to 15"x20"
Going Away by Howard Nemerov
Now as the year turns toward its darkness the car is packed, and time come to start driving west. We have lived here for many years and been more or less content; now we are going away. That is how things happen, and how into new places, among other people, we shall carry our lives with their peculiar memories both happy and unhappy but either way touched with a strange tonality of what is gone but inalienable, the clear and level light of a late afternoon out on the terrace, looking to the mountains, drinking with friends. Voices and laughter lifted in still air, in a light that seemed to paralyze time. We have had kindness here, and some unkindness; now we are going on. Though we are young enough still And militant enough to be resolved, Keeping our faces to the front, there is A moment, after saying all farewells, when we taste the dry and bitter dust of everything that we have said and done for many years, and our mouths are dumb, and the easy tears will not do. Soon the north wind will shake the leaves, the leaves will fall. It may be never again that we shall see them, the strangers who stand on the steps, smiling and waving, before the screen doors of their suddenly forbidden houses.