There is a light I forget to turn off each time I leave the basement. It is as if another lived down there; a person to which I extend a common courtesy. Perhaps in my mind I see them reading a book in my favorite chair in the corner, sitting how my grandfather always sat, right leg crossed over left and the newspaper open on his lap. Perhaps I fail to extinguish the glow from above somehow aware that to do so might shorten the memory lingering in the air.
Love this concept and the imagery.