Normally we don’t get such reddish light filtering into my office as the sun is blocked from view when it is low in the western sky, but smoke from a massive forest fire in the Gorge colored the light before the sun sank behind the trees, softly illuminating the door to my closet.
While waiting for the Blue Line on my way to work on a rainy day in the middle of October, I took some pictures of a Red Line train that pulled into the station. Two weeks later my entire team got laid off, and even if I can find a job in the Portland area it’s most likely I’ll have to drive to get there. It took me a while to edit these pictures as it made me sad to look at them, knowing my time on the MAX is likely over. I rode the trains the majority of the fifteen years we’ve lived in Portland, and while it wasn’t always a happy relationship during stretches when the service wasn’t reliable, in general it took a lot of stress out of my daily commute.
We’ve lived in Portland for fifteen years and for most of that time I’ve walked past this door every day on my way to work. Except I can promise you I’ve never walked past this door, at least not until a few days ago when it caught my eye. I’ll grant you I’m not the most observant person, but even so I know I haven’t walked past this door. And I haven’t. I found a picture online from last summer that showed the graffiti wasn’t present then, it was a beige door in a brown building, tucked in a little cubbyhole between businesses on Broadway, the door I had walked past for so many years. I made a point to photograph it as soon as I could as it will soon be dark in the mornings, and who knows, maybe beige and brown too.