The letter below was addressed to the house in the above image. It announced condolences for the recently deceased father of the occupants. The longevity of the house carries with it something akin to ghosts, shut up inside the boarded building. The letter, and others, spoke to occupants that have since deceased and left their legacies, good and bad. It is some strange business to conjecture many of the things that took place there, in that tiny kitchen, in those formerly dark rooms, in the quiet of daily tasks undertaken by an older woman that at one time toiled in the cotton fields of South Carolina. This last occupant, Miss Mag, that was said of her, “She ain’t never had nothing,” but her quiet dignity said she had something, and even more than that.
