When I first started venturing out into ghost towns, I was fascinated with the idea of being alone in a town.
I was trying to escape myself after a bad break-up.
I was disappearing without actually disappearing.
I felt gone like the people who left these places for various reasons.
I was looking for something that I didn’t know I needed, until I found it.
I imagined the ghosts of people long gone, loving and laughing on these forgotten grounds.
I fell in love with the personality of rusty, beat-up cars and houses with caved in foundations.
I fell in love with the way the breeze caressed my face differently than in the city.
I fell in love with the song of birds and insects.
I fell in love with the melody of swaying grass.
The structures reminded me of myself.
Abandoned, but standing.
Falling, but somehow still sturdy.
–S.
The Messy Middle 🖤 