Visiting the Winchester Dump
In the town of Winchester, MA, where I presently reside. It’s much different in some ways from my old town of Lexington MA. For starters there’s no weekly garbage collection. You need to take your trash to the town dump. I call it a dump, but the Winchester locals call it the “Winchester Transfer Center” Don’t ask me why.
On this day at the dump, there were typewriters, damaged as if thrown from windows; keys bent like arthritic fingers, chewed-on pencils, sans erasers. There were empty coffee cups, spineless thesauruses, and broken whisky bottles.
There were crumpled papers, some blank, some not, piled so high if the wind shifted, I’d have been buried in a pile of frustration. The only living thing at the dump this morning was a one-eyed, limping, German Sheppard.
Why am I drawn to this place? Ping. Ah, here we go, I have to leave someone is requesting a Beacon Hill apartment showing. Till next time.