Abandoned

I absolutely love derelicts. I think that I love them so much because of how irritated and frustrated it makes me feel when I look at one.

I see them and I shake my head in disgust. But not because of what the structure has become, but because of what it was allowed to become

As a builder I have an understanding of how much effort went into the thing: the money, the investment of every man's time, from the owner to the lowest laborer, the emotional investment that was made when blood was poured out in sweat and toil. The sleepless nights of anxiety and excitement. And then to see that which was so ardently fought for, left, rotting, because it holds no value for the new owner.

I am not a socialist. I don't believe that one mans goods should be turned over to another just for the sake of "need." But when men are so short sighted as to refuse to find an equitable return on the investment that was inherited or unintendedly purchased, I shake my head in disbelief. Wouldn't it be better if someone else had bought it?

But then as I write, I realise that perhaps I am not being completely just to those who posses derelicts. Perhaps they do value such structures, but their system of worth is not monetary, but rather emotional. Perhaps they love that structure so much that they can not bear to part with it.

I love to drive. I hate taking the same route to a familiar destination. It makes me feel like a rat, caught in a drab white maze. When I was coming home from my visit to the windmills one day I drove past a derelict out in a growing corn field, and I remembered that I had seen it before and I decided that I was going to have come back and shoot it with my recent some-what-past-time. Needless to say my imagination took some trips until I was able to return and actually go up to the structure.

Doesn't it look like some medieval Middle Eastern tower?

What looked like mosaic tile turned out to be honeycomb block instead

And in the side, a small door stood

And upon entering I discovered what remained of a once very cool storage bin

And knowing me, upon finding hand holds, I didn't hesitate in climbing up. It was awesome to see the elevator collapsed, as if some giant whose very existence was his work had finally succumbed to the ravages of time and all that was left were his bones

The desolate courtyard

And then there was this: see the branch growing THROUGH the other branch?