An old man wheels himself out of duct-taped door of a building that appears abandoned. He has long gray hair and a wispy white beard. He’s wearing ripped sweatpants and no shirt.
The event grounds of the Oregon Chainsaw Sculpture Festival are vacant. Bleachers stand ready.
Abandoned businesses, abandoned bars, but everything is still inside, groaning under dust and spider webs. Someone just died or walked away. They might be decomposing behind a counter.
An entire city block engulfed in blackberries.
The House of Dank getting lighter with a whitewash.
A woman washes herself in an alley. She’s got a bucket and sponge and suds herself under her blouse and down her jeans.
An empty Discovery Center of Local Myths.
A few boats drift the Umpqua for salmon.
An abandoned railroad trestle.
Kegs blown in the dive bar. Two women eat gizzards and work a crossword puzzle together.
An old man passes around a petition to recall Kate Brown. He calls her a tyrant. He reels off a long train of her abuses and usurpations.
A chainsaw sculpture of Donald Trump. Another one. His hands are large but his crotches tiny.
Federal money pays for beautification. New sidewalks and curbs and flower boxes.
An elk walks through old town.
A man tells the story of a Californian CPD manufacturer buying three nearby buildings with cash. A cannabis concern will be the biggest landowner in Reedsport and soon employ the most people,
Reedsport is on the move, and not on the move.