Old abandoned buildings carry for me a certain magic. They’re usually dark cold and humid places, somewhat destroyed by time and men alike, where the wind and the animals make strange and scary sounds. But among the spider webs and the running mice somewhere between the cracked glasses and the falling walls I find these places beautiful. They carry with them stories of the people that lived or worked there, the times that passed under their gaze and also the stories of how they came to be abandoned, they are for me much more then buildings they’re memories of what was and what can be.
In my town several old buildings persist, some still in use others left to weather the test of time on their own. But regardless of their state we carry a wonderful tradition of maintaining parts of these building even when they are destroyed, many times the front is left intact but sometimes only a chimney or some other feature persists as a show of respect for what those that came before us did. This happens not only because we value the history of these buildings but also the stories behind them.
It is perhaps because of this culture of preserving the past that I have come to love abandoned buildings and find them not only cool but valuable and magical places.
This was a prompt provided by Plinky.