The Power of a Place

 In the East End of the city, there is a second-floor room in one of the stately old townhouses; it's a place I think about when I'm not there, a place I visit as often as I can...which isn't very.  It used to be a bedroom, I'm sure, in a house of eight bedrooms.  But now it's a sitting room.  Its air alone has curative properties. 

Place is a powerful thing.  Some places have an ominous feel.  Some places make you feel sleepy, or edgy, or ponderous.  Only few places in this world truly make you feel that all will be well.  For me, this is one of them.

Construction Junction, Pittsburgh

 I'd always heard how cool Construction Junction is.  It's an architectural resale shop in the city's east end, the only place I know where you can find two large bins of newell posts just waiting to be purchased.

 Old office furniture?  Check!  Ergonomically incorrect swivel chairs?  Check!  Formica-topped booths with vinyl benches from old diners?  Check!

 You need rosettes for the doorways of your 18th century house?  Oh, they've got rosettes--or whatever they're called.

 There's wood paneling to go beneath a staircase.  And a mangle?  

My favorite object was the twenty-foot high iron monkey.  Very moving.