A slow, snow filled drive, hours long through an early Sunday morning left us wandering the halls and rooms of a rambling maze, formerly a military installation. Turning and twisting, the halls all look the same, and empty echoing room after echoing room I wandered further from my companions as we lost ourselves in the eerie silence of a place shunned.
Subtle evidence that we were not the only creatures to visit this place abounded for those looking, and I was glad that I did not cross paths with any but the smallest inhabitants.
20+ years and still sitting there like it was yesterday…. Can’t imagine why.
Some days it is just nice to know where you are.
Wandering out a door into the wilderness I find myself confronted with a wall of rust and the shadows of trees dancing across the face of it.
In the depths of winter, snow and cold I remember summer and the song of cicadas.
Stop a moment, take a break. Enjoy the view.
Each block of glass is its own little world living out microscopic dramas in the afternoon sunlight.
Some days I just hang out, pondering what kind of mischief I can next get myself into. It is kind of a primate thing.
Room after room I find nothing but peeled paint and crumbled plaster. Snippets of wire and empty electrical conduits are scattered everywhere, the scrappers have been through here and taken almost everything. Left in their wake I find small clues as to what purpose this pace one served, preserved in the form of rust.