I grew up in a house right next door to an old furniture factory. It was in operation as a child, and every morning I’d know it was time to wake up for school by the sound of the factory whistle. However, the factory eventually closed down and the demolition began. Then stopped. Then began again. Then stopped. Now what is left is a broken down facade and a lot of, well, junk.

At night it’s a place for rats and squatters, but during the day it is beautiful…to me at least. I believe there can be beauty in dilapidation. If there’s peeling paint, chipped wood, rusted nails, I’m there!



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