Monday,

By now I realised that with the just rising sun both sun and shade a close together in temperature so I don’t have to bring a change of clothes.

Up early to head back to the park with the homeless possessions, making sure that once again I take advantage of the light. A lot of the snaps are made of the front porches – which border on the formal but with some real human activity. Since unlike the south the porches are on the street almost, there isn’t that distance so I create some with a pole here and there. Being a college town I find that there is more than enough things to photograph which works with the possessions that are my main goal as it brings into question who their really belong to.

Another newish route downtown – which even though it is a Monday is still early enough that no one is about. Pass though the park of the farmers market to find to-day a homeless coffee klatsch.

I am more interested in spaces, property. Because of the camera malfunctions in Newfoundland I find myself taking the same image on different rolls to make sure. I had one fat roll my first day but it was due to my inattentive loading and my cheap Czech film.

Headed back for breakfast – while the food there was great and I emptied them of their orange juice I wanted to head to a coffee shop with real people – bed and breakfast people aren’t real people.

To-day we were being taken out to lunch by the people of Lake Champlain Chocolates as Carol is the main designer for their packages. This was at noon so more time for wandering before then another – different – way downtown. She to shop, me to snap before heading down to Lake Champlain.

Something I miss in Peasants Pissoir are decent places to eat, and here we were in a city half the size with restaurants galore – this time it was new Asian cuisine, but I was already planning for the evening when we would go down market and have a pizza – but whether it would be a Three Tomatoes or an American Flatbread pizza was still in the air.

The afternoon could have been one of those afternoons simply wasted – a trip to a wildflower farm and now what – if not for me and my boundary fetish.

A ferry to New York – making the crossing – a wander around Essex and then the ferry back would be the outing. I could pretend that in the distance I could see Port- aux-Basques, I could set my watch to be a half hour off. Although it was a car ferry we left the machine in Vermont and walked aboard.

The trip was somewhere in between Marine Atlantic and canoe-ing on Red Indian Lake. I could help but to compare it with the commutes between Niterói and Rio to the point that I went to stand on the prow.And of course there was a Newfoundlander – proudly showing his Memorial sweatshirt there with me at the water’s edge.

Essex had closed down, there were only about six shops in town and all but one was closed. The only reason it was open was due to the owner living above it. Wandered about trying to deal with the dated look of the place and the water. Wondered if I could live in a place that closed so completely after Labour Day.

Went into the post office to find a person running across the street to get her other cat, another trading barbs with the postal worker and a tray of brownies out. my kind of post office.

The woman came back with the other cat – to prove that the two completely different cats were from the same litter. Chatted a bit about the place, wondering what it was like living there and how friendly it seemed - found out later that most people were private and backstabbing – made her snap with Felix and wandered a bit more awaiting the next ferry.

Early evening sun, a puppy stole the scene from the lake.

Readily embracing localism, I had two pints from the closest microbreweries at American Flatbread.