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Postcards from the AnthropoScenic Byway

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In a manufacturing warehouse built in the earlier part of the twentieth century, its concrete floor is a record of sorts. A history of the company may include descriptions and dates, the products made and the names of the men at the helm of its operations. But the floor keeps a different record - of the long-forgotten activity that represents the daily work lives of the men and women who worked on the factory floor and moved inventories of goods to market.

What intrigues me is that embedded in the floor, every scratch, scrape or gouge; every crack or splatter of paint is evidence of an event. Most were inconsequential, I imagine - just something that happened in an instant, hardly noticed. Then again, maybe a mistake made or an accident that was followed by regret in one way or another. Or a slip-up that became the subject for humorous retelling, a “remember the time when…” story that made for a good laugh until there was no one left who remembered.

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