Last week I had to shoot photos of vintage items for a news article. I went to the Barnesville Antique Mall, and it was pretty cool. My head was spinning after perusing three floors crammed with all kinds of items, big and small, Depression glass, pottery, lots of jewelry, handbags, knick knacks, kitchen items—you get the idea. The people were very nice and had set up a display for me to photograph. I purchased a pair of earrings, restraining myself with all of my willpower against buying a large armoire (that I don’t need, and, truthfully, couldn’t get into the house if by chance I could find a way to get it home.)

Tucked away among the bowls, plaques, baubles and linens, there were a couple of odd items. I posted the “duck o’lantern (?!?)” on my Instagram account. And, truly, I'm glad I was a good little girl because I can't imagine how I would have turned out if Santa Claus had brought me a baby doll like the one forever-screaming, pictured below. I had the strangest thoughts about how the other two dolls have just tuned that one out; they’ve become jaded, numb and stare blankly into their own worlds, day in, day out. Which led me to think about how we, witnessing or experiencing similar constant noise (violence, crying children, barking dogs, maltreatment of animals or humans, etc.) eventually tune it out or adopt it as part of the daily landscape.

But I was on sensory-overload at that point, had totally missed lunch and hadn’t even finished my morning coffee.

I think I’ll be going back, though. I just got a Holga lens, and this might be a good test location.