Through the spattering rain I wondered how different was this place today from the way some other guy found it in say 1926 or 1976? The wet reflections hide Lancaster's age stains and wash down colors in ways that reveal patterns which have barely changed in eighty years - or a lot longer. We have neighbors in their mid eighties who could overlay this place with a tranparency of their memories. Maybe a ventilator or air conditioner might poke an unexpected jot onto the comparison - but what else?
When cable news is littered with names as ancient as Baghdad and Tigris, what're eighty or a hundred years? Is what I saw this morning in this alleyway behind the Farmer's Market just a resilient packaging around the culture du-jure? Or could a family from 1926 find themselves as familiar with the way we now think and act, as they might with the bricks, and walks and hues of this place in the Saturday Morning rain?
Meta: (Lancaster, 9-16-06) RGB color, EF-S 10-22mm, 17mm, ISO 400, 1/200 at f/10