It is 3am.
I am wide awake and tapping away at my keyboard. I can't yet put my finger on what I want to talk about but I also can't stop just yet. There is something about writing that suspends you in time and compels you to pay it attention. Once the writing bug hits me, I am fully motivated - despite a full day starting in a couple hours - to type until the ink runs out. This pre-dawn project has no posted deadline so the sight of the sun in my window will be my last call. But what am I supposed to write about? I am an avid Sherlock fan - in all currently available varieties - so I've decided the best way to satiate my brain's thirst for words was to figure out what started them.
Just a few minutes ago, I was in bed, snug in my wool blanket, cruising through my social feeds and trying to run my iPhone battery down low enough to warrant a charge. I wasn't terribly sleepy yet - mostly due to an afternoon cup of coffee and the soothing cuppa tea I had with a late dinner/patio therapy session at Casablanca on Madison - so I took the time to actually read through a few articles instead of skimming through headlines as usual. One link lead to another and I found myself searching for the designer of a certain building I saw on my way home tonight. The building caught my eye because this small bank had a near identical structure to a theatre building in town that I admire. This mild search sent my thoughts into a storm. I began to think about other structures, both new and old, that are similar here. There are some built in adjacent decades, while others years and several miles apart. Yet they all seem to be fully and uniquely integrated into the environments where they're found.
The buildings around Memphis certainly have an intriguing way of conveying the city's very complex history. I suppose this has been my unconscious observation for some time now, as evidenced by all the seemingly random snaps of buildings and spots around town that I've collected in my camera roll. I have not yet been a formal student of architecture but as a self taught
Now that I have this thought in writing, I have no choice but to carry it through. So here is my official pledge to catalog the stories of Memphis. To uncover the untold narratives of ancient archways, basements, and driveways on empty lots. To record the memories of those who were there. To write the developing narrative of new buildings rising. To tell the story of my hometown. After all, this will one day be my story too - I'd say it is my duty to make sure our memories are held secure.
5am.
