Squat

The animal hides on the bed never get made- there are blankets over the windows. In the kitchen, eight different kinds of hot sauce. The flash from the police officer’s camera is overly intimate and, in retrospect, beautiful- the crumbling dirt floor of the basement, the toe of his boot cap, shining and black, in the corner of the photograph.

There is a stack of books on the wooden coffee table. Yellow paperbacks, zines, Derrick Jensen. More zines hang on a piece of string on the wall- No Gods No Mattresses, Sexuality as State Form, the Cloak and Dagger Compendium.

The locks have been changed. A white bowl holds paper clips, locking picking tools, an old lock. There is a cluster of glass prayer candles, a purple glass candy dish, a folded pair of reading glasses. A single beer can.

The rug came from the dumpster, one of those big long ones that look like a freight car, that sit outside of peoples’ houses when they’re doing renovations. It has some sort of Chinese symbols on it and it covers the whole floor. It covers the rotted spots, the stained plywood. It helps hold in the little bit of heat that comes from the gas camp stove in the kitchen.

In the kitchen, the necessities- honey, tea, instant coffee. A loaf of dumpstered crusty bread, half-eaten. A cutting board- lettuce, mustard, hummus. The photographer collects weapons that he finds and arranges them on the small, hexagonal tiles of the kitchen counter- a multitool, a paring knife, a machete. The house had been abandoned for three years, and the machete was for the blackberries barring the garage door- grown into a cyclone fence. The paring knife, of course, is for acts of unspeakable violence.

Someone at one point drank a forty of old English, and this has not escaped notice. It was shared, actually, on the couch, in the dark, with the animal skins pulled over them. The prayer candles flickered softly- Holy Mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners. Someone else sat in the rocking chair with the guitar on his lap, absorbed in the tips of his fingers.

Someone was young once, and thought that they could change the world. After their belongings were fully catalogued, they were arrested.

(Source)