This goes back to the days when addresses were embedded into the sidewalks here in Memphis, Tennessee. This one is well over a hundred years old. Recently, the last remaining descendant from the original family who resided there passed away. An old woman in her 90's, she was born there and lived her entire life in her family's fine Victorian mansion. During her life, she saw her neighborhood transform from the highest echelons of Memphis real estate into a drug and high crime ghetto. It must have been a frightening experience the day she had to have burglar bars installed in her windows, windows that in an earlier time were left open and unlocked, even when nobody was at home. Unimaginable today, especially in her neighborhood. Once, I had an encounter with her just a couple of years before she passed away. I was photographing her house from the sidewalk, the same time this picture was taken, and she apparently noticed me giving what must have seemed to be too much attention. She came out the front door and asked me rather bluntly what I wanted. I replied that I was merely a photographer taking pictures of her lovely home. I detected a slight smile on her wrinkled face, but she quickly turned around and was back inside before I had a chance to start a conversation. What a missed opportunity! I'm sure I could have talked to her all day. What stories she could have shared, stories she ended up taking to her grave. They had a massive estate sale after she passed away, but by the time we got there the line literally went around a couple of blocks, and we didn't have the time. It would have been fascinating to walk the stairs and floors she had known so well, and for so long. I would not be surprised at all if a part of her was still there, watching out for her sacred home.