When I was a child, I was fascinated by ghosts signs, faded signs painted on the sides of old brick buildings. There were a lot of them in Worcester, my hometown, advertising soap and soda and such, or identifying long-gone businesses. I especially liked the ones that included prices (you could get a lot for 5¢ in the old days) or short phone numbers like “Park 175.”
These signs were discarded. They became obsolete, but no one cared enough to paint over them. They were just left to fade away, but they survived, messages from the past, clues to everyday life in days gone by.