My fascination with abandoned buildings
I usually get asked “why” I have such a fascination with abandoned buildings, and I can’t really answer this questions. I guess the people who ask this are the people who don’t understand, and probably are never going to.
It’s the dank coolness you feel walking into those dark enclosed rooms, devoid of light and heat for so long.
It’s the leftover furniture (motel), kitchen utencils (asylum), jars of yeast (brewery), and other bits and pieces that are a reminder of the people who used these spaces and the functions they performed.
These places once had lives of their own.
It’s other bits and pieces – mattresses, burnt-out drums, empty spray cans, broken beer bottles, bits of clothing – that are evidence of the people who currently use these places. Or maybe they once used these places, but have moved on – who knows? And who are they? Where are they now? And why did they go?
Abandoned buildings have histories, tell stories; it’s as though they have souls.
It’s also the way I feel as though noone can find me, when I am high up on the top of an abandoned building. Somewhere noone is going to look for me. A place that noone whom I know even knows exists. It is silent up here, away from the hustle and bustle of the streets down below, and I can enjoy the solitude in my own little pocket of the universe whilst being right in the middle of everything.