An abandoned house can be one of the most peaceful places on the face of the earth, alone with my thoughts and the flashes of strange memories from the past. unexplainable schemes and ideas flood my brain as I attempt to clear my mind to focus on the moment, whether real or placebo I can’t deny the things I have experienced and felt after spending any length of time in an abandoned home.
The winter wind blew in the same as me, through the open basement window. I may be confined to the stairs on my climb to the top, but the wind whistles and rattles through the vents and the walls as it makes its ascent to the top. The first floor has a suspended ceiling that breathes violently when the wind blows, every panel simultaneously lifts before crashing back into place in a pulse that I had to interrupt only to realize the rhythmic beauty I interrupted… I later replaced the panel and restored the chaotic rhythm, though it was later destroyed in a gusty storm.
The third floor of this house is a place of both self-destruction and personal discovery for me, I spent an embarrassing amount of time chasing dragons around the bad memory that is at the top of the steps. My memories focus around a lawn chair positioned toward the wall of south-facing windows, these windows were ingeniously placed so they captured sunlight all day during the winter. When the door was closed this room became surprisingly warm during the daylight hours, before the windows were removed and stolen that is.
From this chair I watched the sun occasionally set over the bus-way, listening to the wind blow in from the hole in the floor and then whistle through the lathe boards exposed by the missing plaster. As the wind blew through the room carrying the dust away, it also was taking my hopes and dreams with it. I sat there and not only watched this building deteriorate, but I realized I was deteriorating faster than the house was. The photo to the right of this paragraph was taken when I was completely “lost” to put it nicely, judging by the writings on the walls of this house I am not the only person that lost and found themselves in the confines of this house.
This house has poetry hand written all over the walls, unknown to the original author, this poetry was the inspiration for an art project that would later grace all of the abandoned houses on our street. The panel over the door of this house is of significant meaning to me, it reads “You can tear them down, but you can never take away the memories of this abandoned intrigue.”, another window reads “You will become something magnificent keep going”. I know the original author has no idea how important the poetry they wrote on the walls of this house would be to me, and I also know the girl who organized the painting of these boards had no idea… It’s kind of like the house saw all of this coming and attracted all of these things to it, only to have the pieces put back together by me…
It’s a damn shame I can no longer enter this building without compromising my sanity, the memories are too strong for me to contend with. It’s really amazing that the best parts of the poetry written on the inside are at least temporarily fixed to the front of the house, painted in some of the brightest colors made available to the community artists involved that day… Oh if they only knew the appreciation I feel for them now…
You will become something magnificent keep going – Unknown
Peace – chriscondello
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