SARAH'S STORY
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The students were asked to write stories and poems inspired by the photographs that they took during the workshop. Each student chose a poem or story related to a photograph made during the workshop sessions for display here. Their chosen photos, printed large, will also be displayed the during the month of May, 2008, at the Addison Woolley Gallery in Portland, Maine, along with the poems and stories chosen. The gallery is at 87 Market St., in Portland's Old Port (on Post Office Park).

 

     What’s behind the pine frame of that window nobody knows. Miller has owned the place for years. Just like his past Miller keeps the place closed up. Only a few people know about it, I being one of them.

     
Miller wasn’t always a sour old man. He was once the talk of the town, everyone knew that he had potential. He had a young missus whom with he was in love with. He spent his days with her caring for her, loving her, doing all he could for her.

     Nobody knows why she left, just did one day. He came home one evening calling out for her with a little red velvet jeweler’s case in his hand. “Caroline? I have something for you, Caroline?” he went into the bedroom thinking perhaps she was asleep. That’s when he found the note with those two words written on it that would change his life forever. ”goodbye Miller”. Broke Millers heart.

     Miller then took to the old shack making it his home and completely shutting himself out from the events of the world. Now you can see him, sometimes, sitting in the window with a glazed look in his eyes, waiting for his Caroline to come back. Waiting. Miller seems to have a special connection from that window. Some people say that it was Caroline that painted the pink on that window. They say that he came home one evening and saw a happy paint-splattered Caroline next to the window waiting for his reaction.

      “Do you like it”? asked Caroline.

     “Did you do this”? replied Miller.


     “Yep”! said Caroline beaming.

     “Then I love it”! said Miller.

     Others say that it was Caroline’s favorite spot. I say that it is Millers way of seeing the world. His own way of not totally letting go, but still hanging on to that little thread that had kept him going for so many years. The thread called Caroline.

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