I love abandoned buildings.
There is a strange quiet, yet nervous feeling that can only be achieved by ignoring a “do not enter” sign, climbing over a fence and finding yourself in a decaying building alone in the dying rays of the setting sun.
(season with autumn leaves for extra feeling of inevitable passing of time to taste)
It’s hard to explain to anyone who has never had the pleasure, but it is one of those victimless crimes that provokes clammy palms and a sense of ones mortality, that the other victimless crimes do but with much easier to deal with day afters.
So, it was with no small excitement that walking along after finding ourselves with an hour to wait for a boondocks bus after visiting Oya temple we came across an urban explorers wet dream, an abandoned building with no fence and a sign in a language I could pretend not to be able to read.
Cue kid in a sweet shop face and a perfect 30 minutes of clammy palms and a sense of my own mortality.
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