Dust & Distortion: Lost in the Grey of Port Blossom
okay, so i’m pretty sure i’m running on fumes and lukewarm coffee. 1392003389… honestly, that number just sits there, doesn’t it? like a stubborn stain. i landed in Port Blossom yesterday, and it’s… well, it’s grey. aggressively grey. the humidity’s clinging to everything - 16.21°C feels like 16.03°C, and the pressure’s a solid 1010. it’s like stepping into a permanent watercolor painting. i just checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.
I’m staying in this place called ‘The Static Echo’ - it’s basically a converted warehouse with a surprisingly decent sound system. The owner, Silas, is a former touring session drummer, which explains the vibe. He keeps muttering about ‘finding the pocket’ and ‘locking in.’ I just nodded and paid. He also gave me this crumpled map, warning me about the ‘Whispering Docks’ - something a local warned me about. Apparently, they’re best avoided after dark.
Spent the afternoon wandering around. The architecture is… interesting. Lots of brutalist concrete and these weird, almost organic-looking *brick facades. It’s like the city was designed by a robot with a bad case of existential dread. Found a little record store tucked away on a side street - ‘Vinyl Static’ - and scored a cracked copy of some obscure post-punk band. Worth the hunt, honestly. The guy behind the counter, Leo, just stared at me for a solid five minutes before saying, "You got good ears."
I overheard some guys at a bar - ‘The Rusty Cog’ - talking about the annual ‘Grey Tide Festival.’ Apparently, it’s a celebration of… well, grey. They dress in all grey, eat grey food (grey pudding, apparently), and listen to grey music. Sounds… intense. I’m not sure I’m ready for that level of commitment to monochrome. Someone told me that the festival organizers are obsessed with the local seaweed farms* - they apparently use the seaweed to dye everything grey.
Speaking of locals, there’s this family who lives across the alley - the Millers. They’re… intense. The dad, Arthur, is a retired clockmaker, and he spends all his time meticulously repairing antique clocks. The mom, Beatrice, is a taxidermist. Don’t ask. Their teenage son, Finn, just nods at me when I pass, and his little sister, Clara, collects bottle caps. If you get bored, [Port Blossom] is just a short drive away. Seriously, there’s a surprisingly large outlet mall about an hour outside the city. Don’t judge.
I’m trying to capture the feeling of this place with my camera. It’s hard to describe. It’s not beautiful in the traditional sense, but there’s a certain… melancholy to it. A sense of quiet desperation. I’m thinking of shooting a series of black and white photos - focusing on the textures and the shadows. Need to find a decent darkroom. Maybe Silas can point me in the right direction. He’s got a whole collection of vintage audio equipment, so he’s probably seen it all.
I’m seriously considering just buying a small, grey cottage and moving here. Or maybe opening a grey-themed cafe. The possibilities are… grey. I need more coffee. And possibly a therapist. Seriously, this place is messing with my head. I’m going to check out Yelp for some decent coffee shops. Apparently, ‘The Obsidian Brew’ is the place to be. Let’s hope it’s not grey.
https://www.tripadvisor.com/Tourism-g338456-Port_Blossom_West_Virginia-Vacations.html
https://www.yelp.com/
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