Powell's Travel Store taped brown mailing paper in the windows and locked its doors for the last time. Closed.
Which means: I have lived in this city long enough to lose a space I once loved. Long enough to have insider information. I can say: meet me where Powell's Travel used to be or meet me at the old travel store. But it mostly means an empty hole beneath the MAX station. A hole in Portland's living room, as the locals like to call Pioneer Square. Like a drain.
Comments (3)
That is sad, I liked that store.
Posted by Tom | February 3, 2005 8:02 PM
Posted on February 3, 2005 20:02
That is an excellent detail to the psychogeographic map I imagine based on your previous writings and now this!
It makes me think of Los Angeles, of course, in contrast...how if I explained points of reference this way, it would be like a collage: an image on top of image on top of image, as each place dissolves. The place that was once Michael's Room, then became Cafe Bliss, that will now be superimposed with something else, someone else's idea...(which also speaks to those 'void' places, those specific spots where no business survives--they just keep going under)--but yes. LA is sometimes one great big collage.
Posted by W | February 8, 2005 10:12 PM
Posted on February 8, 2005 22:12
For me, in a place I have lived for decades, everywhere I go there are layers under layers of experience. I've driven through Key Circle in Birmingham when I was sad, inspired, hopeful, ecstatic, at a loss, and in some way that is all there as I drive around that semicircle going one way or another each time I return. It is a wonderful backdrop for one's muse...
Posted by Peggy | February 12, 2005 8:06 PM
Posted on February 12, 2005 20:06