AMELIA: What do I do? Well, I take pictures of ruins that have been overtaken by nature.
STRANGER: Really. Why?
AMELIA: A hobby turned career. Ever heard of the national Geographic?
STRANGER: You're kidding.
AMELIA: I swear it. Sometimes I pinch myself to make sure that's really what I get to do in my life.
STRANGER: So you're a... like a - tornado chaser? Like Twister?
AMELIA: Safer. But, sure. I guess I'm a 'ruins overtaken by nature' kinda chaser.
STRANGER: Huh. When I was a kid I used to bike to this house in my town. Deserted house. The witch's house - we all called it. The yard was covered with weeds. Ivy was overgrown, blocking the windows. I used to go there to get away from everything. To escape my parents' fighting. To cut school. I never went inside, I just... hung out. Guarding the witch's house. Like a watch dog. Like a soldier at a checkpoint. Some years later the house was demolished. It was to be a parking lot of a new mall. I was long gone and I guess no one took my spot so the witch's house stood lonesome. Guard-less. What was once overtaken by nature was now turned into society's nature: Greed. Gold. Gasoline. I swore to never sat foot in that mall. My little town became a city. And deserted houses became a thing of the past. Nature now is a crystal ball sold in a souvenir shop at a mall.
How many of those stories are there... I wonder. How much beauty is overlooked and demolished, just like that.
AMELIA: What is to one a ruin - to another - it is an entire world found.
STRANGER: I get it. With that camera of yours - you shed a light over everything we don't want to look at. We can build the fanciest most glamorous towers, but those will never bloom like flowers in the spring.
In April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.
Header Art: Daniel Landerman