When I moved into Number 9451, it had been vacant for a long time. There was a stack of old mattresses on the lawn and a freezer full of old carpet in the back yard. The neighbors clapped the first time I mowed the lawn. It is one of the last old houses left standing amongst dense condo development. When each old house loses to progress, I scale the blue fence with my shovel and rescue the plants from the inevitable bulldozer. Rocks and lumber are often in on the escape. I don't drive, so all these things are dragged, carried and wheeled home, sometimes under the cover of night.
This place too will eventually fall to the bulldozer. Knowing this allows me the freedom to use the space creatively and display everything that I find, from images to wiggly sticks to shrubberies to bones. The rule in the house is: if you can reach it, you can touch it. It's not a museum; it's home to me, an amazing and tolerant roommate, a dog, a cat, a lizard, a hamster, 2 fish, a shrimp, an escaped cricket and a bunch of stuff I dragged home.