Trolling the alleys is one of my favorite past times. It's not the 95 % of the time spent looking at soggy mattresses and stained, broken down couches or discarded plastic kids toys that makes it fun. It's not really the 4% of time spent trying to decide if something is worth hauling home in the hopes that it can be transformed or in some way salvaged for service or beauty again. It is all for that l% of time spent, that time when, as if by magic, there for the taking is a piece of furniture or a remnant of architecture, or a piece of wood or metal that speaks to me. It begs me to take it home and give it another chance. There are those things that ask and I can't refuse. I was not always so selective. I used to want to rescue everything that had an ounce of hope left. But I ran out of room and those "saved" items became a burden. They sat there wondering when I was going to give them some attention. So now I'm willing to leave those for someone else to love and tend to.