Shoestrings

Shoestrings

Well, isn't she just the most wonderful abandoned building I've ever seen? 


Outside in, so promising. Potentially exquisite. It's sad, really, the state she's in. The regal red brick facade trying to mask her deteriorating interior. Oh, how it's trying. Her ceilings have all but collapsed under the weight of what she was. Her wallpaper lines the floors rather than the walls, torn and shed, damp and shamed with moss. Her rooms lay bare and still with the cold drafts that breeze through doorless panels. 


She's falling apart in isolation, and I can only look on. 


She's cold now. So cold. It's such a shame. She used to be a thing of beauty, you know. You could only imagine the charm she possessed, the faces she lit up, the warmth she brought with nothing else but her presence. She was home. Now all that's left to remind us of that are the crumbling fireplaces, staircases, pockmarked traces of love and untied shoelaces.


Wonderful, wasn't she.