A Story as We Work

Some years back I wrote a short story called Dead Suburbia. It was based on a group of Valley people who, under the constant drone of a strip mine operation changed their behavior to begin to destroy the valley that they loved so much. It was a delve into the subconsciousness of feeling helpless to stop the destruction of nature. 

Since that time the concept changed, I kept getting older, started taking photographs and went on my way in life.

Then suddenly 50 years the mine was gone. Fifty years of noise suddenly stopped. The mine used to 'clink, clink, clink' 24x7. I immersed myself in the silence but I noticed the people had changed. No one was enjoying it with me so I decided to update the story. 

In the tradition of my family of storytellers I'm going to write sections here and accompany them as I develop all 3 skills further in my grand experiment. Fiction, truth and photos with thoughts on the guilt that I feel while mixing my paint. I don't want to become like the strip mine; wasteful, destructive and environmental unsound.

On the art table: The photo that accompanies the story. To be set on a board (no more canvas for me). Soon to be paint poured. After that addition of -I'm not quite sure yet. Something from the woods. After that varnished.