There is a silence that lives in small towns — a quiet not born of peace, but of pause. It lingers behind shuttered windows and hand-painted signs, in the faint hum of a neon “Open” that hasn’t been switched on in years. Walk down Keokuk’s Main Street, and you’ll feel it too: that mingling of memory and absence, a kind of reverence for what once was. The bricks tell their own story. Each one...
