Taken by time

May 16, 2009

When I was in college, my roommate and I often drove back roads deep into the Georgia woods. The roads would narrow to little more than rocky rutted paths. With no idea of our whereabouts and not caring, we’d then walk until the forest enveloped us. It was aimlessness with purpose, a meandering quest for serendipity. I miss it.

On one such trip we stumbled upon a long-abandoned fish camp that the forest was well on the way of reclaiming. Inside we found a Wurlitzer jukebox. Somehow we dragged the jukebox uphill to his car and installed it in our shoebox dorm room. The mechanical guts were beyond repair. We stripped the insides and installed padding and speakers hooked to our stereo, creating the ultimate one-person hideaway for sensory overload.

I hadn’t thought of the jukebox for years until today while exploring this web site of abandoned buildings and other things that the past has taken. They’re out there, waiting to disappear.

Former Japanese shipyard

Former Japanese shipyard