Nestled next to the railroad tracks, big green doors with a padlock, fresh roses in a water bottle as an offering, a remembrance, some sign of life and devotion.
Bits and pieces of daily life, nomadic rambles, pickled cravings, piles of books, and a furry dog. Cajun, Jewish, Taiwanese, American family on the move.
That reminds me of the shrine in Under the Tuscan Sun.
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