Tag Archives: nonsense of the truth

Meeting God (if There is One)

I walked into the abandoned building on a routine assignment for photography class and halted, my chucks pushing a small pile of old candy wrappers and beer cans. I’d never seen anything like this place. Perhaps once, when I was in Notre Dame Cathedral when someone had left a window open and the sun shone through it in just the right way. But this was different.

That day in Paris, even though I didn’t believe in God, I couldn’t help but feel like He was trying to send me some sort of message. But that was in a church and it was nowhere near as beautiful as this antiquated, unused building that witnessed the ravages of time and disuse.

Yes, I was surrounded by garbage, an overflowing dumpster and all kinds of junk. The building was collapsing, and I hadn’t been charged a certain number of Euros or queued in an hour-long line to get in. The bright light wasn’t pouring in through a stained glass window that was in itself a work of art; here it spilled in via the surrendered ceiling in an abandoned building that probably should have been condemned years ago.

Part of the roof hung down by a girder. A breeze made it swing slightly and a creaking sound emitted from it, echoing off the emptiness. Rain had rusted the metal bars on the windows and the reddish-brown color spilled down the whitewashed walls of the what was probably an old warehouse. This was no Notre Dame, and yet it was more beautiful to me than anything I had ever witnessed before.

I snapped off a few shots and looked at the camera’s screen. The rays of sun bounced off the dusty air to create the illusion of substance. The light, so bright, washed out the image just a bit and created that feeling I had in my gut that, if there was a God, He was right there with me. Even the trash looked beautiful as it was washed with the bright illumination of our planet’s lightgiver.

I snapped off a few more shots and then the room dimmed a bit as a cluster of clouds must have passed overhead. My sigh reverberated through the room, hiding the creaking of the dangling ceiling, and as I walked out the echoed shuffling of my chucks followed.

Top photograph by Manon, whose blog can be found here.

Notre Dame photograph by me.


A Sporadic Trip Around the World

“I want to take a trip around the world.”

Illana looked up at Maura to gauge the sincerity of her comment. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Now.”

Illana left her homework and walked over to the bed where Maura lay on her stomach ignoring the text she was assigned.

“You’re one-hundred percent sure?” Maura nodded. “Then get dressed.”

As Maura put on her favorite tee shirt they’d bought because they thought the image looked like Joan Crawford, Illana pulled out an old plaid suitcase, a treasure found at an estate sale a few months back. She opened it and began placing random clothing into it as her friend pulled a skirt up over her black leggings. Once assembled, Maura stepped up to the suitcase, motioning to Illana that it was her turn to get ready.

Pulling out a pair of flower-print shorts and holding them up to a mirror against her leggings, Illana remembered something important and said, “Don’t forget Marilyn. And Old Yellow.” Maura nodded in agreement and grabbed the large framed photograph and a beat up toy car, stuffing them into the vintage case with the clothing.

Illana joined her by the suitcase and they each took a clamp and shut it.

“Let’s go,” Maura said, Illana grabbing the suitcase and following close behind.


Illana and Maura waited alongside Paddua Road, a desolate and unused trucking road that ended at a collapsed bridge about three miles towards the mountains. They watched, waiting for an unlikely vehicle.

“I want to see Paris,” Illana said as she propped up the photograph against the suitcase and plopped down in the grass next to the asphalt.

“So generic,” Maura responded. “But yes, we must. And Madrid.”





Maura shielded her eyes from the sun, looking down the empty road. “Nobody’s coming. I want to change my shirt.”

“So change it. There isn’t a house for miles.”

Maura removed the Joan Crawford-like shirt and replaced it with a gray tee, pulling the long sleeves up to her elbows. She looked down the road again, then started slowly crossing it towards the open field across from them. Illana laid down in the middle of the road and watched her go for a moment before getting up, and grabbing their belongings and heading for the same field.

She joined Maura, who was now sitting amongst the grass and dandelion wishes. Illana plucked one of the nearby flowers and blew on it so that parachutes fluttered in the air, putting on a private dance just for the two teenagers.

“Think we’ll ever actually see the world?”

“Of course we will. Don’t be silly. As soon as we’re eighteen. Summer after we graduate. It’ll happen.”

Maura reached over to the suitcase and opened it, removing the small beat up vehicle they’d found while exploring an abandoned home last summer. She ran her fingers across the writing on the door that said “Kreuzer – Ball Pen Stylo” and then spun one of the wheels. She looked over at Illana, who was laying on her back with her feet in the air. She gently balanced the toy onto Illana’s feet.

“See how long you can keep it there.”

After a few minutes of a quiet breeze and perfect balance, Maura reached over and tickled Illana, making the car roll off her feet and into a particularly large pack of the white dandelions. The car disturbed enough of the flowers to break a large amount of them, and the wind picked up the petals and blew them towards the girls, making a summer snowfall of wishes surround them.

“Make a wish,” Illana told Maura.

“I already did.”

Maura got up and picked up the suitcase.

“Let’s go home.”

Photographs by Laura and Manon of Nonsense of the Truth

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