Leafy trees, vines, unkempt underbrush camouflage a structure hiding back there. Vines intertwine along unassuming stones. Multiple glass windows mirror branches and hide the inside from my eyes. The place seems even more magical because I found it on a quiet, less-traveled road, a street that runs behind, and parallel to, Pease Park. 

The steps look undisturbed, so where is the driveway? Are there residents in this home? I walk back the way I came, spotting the driveway then. Wandering up a little, I can see the house from a new angle. The American flag juts out from the side and I register disappointment at its placement, or, rather, out of placement with the cottage, that a moment ago, could have existed quite well in England. At least a pirate’s flag would have stirred my curiosity and matched the quirkiness. And a green Brazilian flag would have complimented the scenery. Not only did the American flag’s colors clash, but, more than that, the symbol the flag…Not freedom anymore, exactly. sadly. The way the flag is used and by whom…

Not always of course, but more than enough.

Still an interesting discovery that made me stop.