Image popped up again.
It’s visible here, here, here, and here.
It is enigmatic to me. Speaks to me on many levels, all at the same time, only, the images fail to capture the real essence of what’s there. It’s an abandoned gas station, from the golden era of automobiles and oil industry.
The good, old days.
Humble oils became something else, and along the way, as I understand it, places like that one station were left to rot. I believe the city owns the property now. Not two blocks north? There’s another abandoned gas station, probably a Texaco. Six blocks east? Maybe a little further? There’s station that’s been turned into a swanky coffee shop. And another block over from there? Same kind of station, turned into an art studio and office.
But this Humble Oils? In wan October afternoon, in the evening’s twilight, the sun sets early on this one station. The mighty Interstate (35). The traffic from Laredo roars by, the trucks’ air brakes for downtown traffic, and the dead station? Flanked by on ramps? Eclipsed.
Twice now, I’ve stumbled upon photographers toying with lenses and settings, trying to catch the essence of that image. Haven’t done it yet. Maybe we can never capture that sense. But if a picture can tell a story? I’ll keep trying. Maybe if I get it at dawn’s light, on a cold winter morning.
Laeti edimus qui nos subigant!
Two Meat Tuesday (the book)
(cure for the common horoscope)
Pink Cake A commonplace book.
Bexar County Line
