From a series of photos of "blight houses" taken as part of a work assignment.

These are sad places, really; badly neglected; some projects that were begun and abandoned. There are people living in some. I look at them and wonder if they were ever places where there was laughter and children and the smells of dinner cooking.
This "building permit" sign has been up for years. In another house, a 60-something man lived there with his 85 year old mother until she died a year ago. The sidewalk was impassable due to shrubbery and, through an open door, when I interviewed him as a school board candidate, I could see the interior of the home nearly as impassable. He invited me in; I declined.
I stood outside one home, now abandoned by the second owner in four months, breathing through my mouth to fight the stench that threatened to bring back the now-gone migraine. Someone had recently been living there amid that smell. I asked the police officer what it was: fuel oil, turpentine and dead animals, was his response.