Que Sera Sara?

Those big, driveway-sized containers primarily.

To look in while passing is obscenely intimate, if casual — so they are finally getting rid of that pink formica from the 1/2-bath — sometimes even glimpses of photos and long-loved armchairs and rugs with a lifetime of stories and stains.

Today I found a vintage mirror, oddly oblong with a faux-gilt frame.

Weirdly tacked. Repaired? Ill-made custom? DIY?

Dusty with years of dirt. Has no one needed to see themselves here?

I wonder where it has come from. Why it is here. Where we will put it in its new life.