Annie and Vera Piccola, my great-aunts, always lived in the same house next to the railroad tracks in Chicora, Pennsylvania,
a place nicknamed "Goosetown" for the bleat of the oil wells. Neither ever married or left, and the house remained perfectly intact.
The train would pass the house daily, at noon and at seven, marking the sameness of another day, the sureness of time.
When they were in their eighties I began to document their vanishing world.