Margaret Doody-Scully Abandoned Human Desire
A robins whitewashed kitchen looks out on the faded green grass of the empty fields. An old stanley stove lurches away from the wall. In the yard a vintage tractor rusting falls asunder. Plaster fragments of the homestead litter the floor of the rooms. In an upstairs bedroom a window sash has slipped and become a trapezoid framing the overgrown orchard facing west. Yellow buttercups carpet the floor of the haggard, their mournful winter gone. They scent their way raising their delicate trampled heads for tastes of rainfall. Behind the roofless barn a delapidated Morris Minor car, having seen better days is suddenly carressed by the groan of the wind and lashing rain committed to preserving the delicate balance between man and nature. As walls tumble boundaries fray and the line connecting dwelling and farmyard melts away and this empty house is just one bone in a giant skeleton of abandoned human desire.
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