My usual desolated warehouse location was a tad overpopulated being a workday; I was used to the normal weekend abandonment where my friends and I could hang out for hours without interruption. All of my pictures of that place went down with my laptop's motherboard.
The Great Crash, when I learned to start backing my precious photos on a portable hardrive.
Last time, that place, it was nothing short of sweltering. Probably one of the hottest memories I own: our skin sticky and salty from ocean water, surrounded by nothing but hot, grey concrete reflecting an even hotter sun with a wisely selected steaming bucket of fried chicken for the lunch menu. But we enjoyed ourselves somehow; we went rummaging about like raccoons and found a crate of these massive, rusty crane hooks. I instantly fell in love and took one for my collection of Ugly Things. It must have been a sight to see pale teenagers hauling those magnificent hooks in bikinis, but the sight was fortunately unseen.
The lovely hook currently resides on a nub of a tree in back yard. I see it
everyday.
This day was sunny, typically "beautiful" by most standards, but cool. Despite the singing sunshine, the factory still managed a dismal loom in our approach. You must admire that, something that can actually loom in broad daylight.
I've heard the hills are alive with the sound of music; I know the empty horse stable by my house is alive with festering furniture and a cloud of insects; that chemical plants are alive with loud churning and rumbling; and even most deserted of factories are alive with some sort of abysmal echo; but this factory seemed to epitomize all abandonment.
It was hollow, and that’s it.
Trey looks like a runaway, like this is his palace. Sometimes, often times, I like to imagine children that grow up in these places. Sometimes primitive, wild things with clothes made of scrap metal and plastic. Is that strange, to fantasize about being one of them?
Fascinating creatures in glorious isolation.
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