The city of Duncan, reminds me of my youth and the countless times I would walk the streets of my home town back in Kansas. Much like Newton, Duncan is small, easy to navigate and incredibly observing of history. 

I have driven by this stale and deathly building a many of times, often directing my sight as if to make a documentary; seeing the inner beauty still imprinted, stained on this tiny corner lot intrigued me. So, why not examine its past calendar?

The garage once changed black gold [oil] from running automobiles. One side dealt with the messy job title and the other, I assumed worked on other projects, such as tires or batteries or anything of that sort. Work was done, that much was for sure. The concrete slabs still lay intact but the wooden room next to it had a much harsher walk in maturity. Not much was inside. Parts of trees, vines, leaves and what ever soul called it home occupied the walk way. The feeling of entering this abandoned treasure was stellar. It presented an impact that is often forgotten; we are born, we grow, we peak and we fall to be born again.