The Magic of Ruins
What is it about desolate ruins that appeals to me? I'm not sure, but I find the prospect of derelict, falling apart places to be exciting in a major way. It doesn't even matter what kind of ruins. I saw a video that was filmed in a rusty old boxcar that was just sitting on a set of abandoned tracks, amid some rusty old debris. The little child inside of me wanted to ignore the rest of the video and go exploring. I felt like some sort of adventurer on a grand quest, seeking hidden treasure and charting unknown territories. And treasure doesn't even have to be "gold coins" or "jewels" or anything like that; here, treasure is in the sense of Calvin and Hobbes. A colourful spider, a piece of broken glass that looks like it may have come from someone's spectacles about a hundred years ago, the body of a long-dead scorpion...
I once got to walk up to an old abandoned building. It was a brick structure around a steel frame, with all the doors and windows missing, except the ones on the two lowest floors had been sealed with sheets of steel. I could have gotten in if I was determined; I could have brought some rope and climbed, or even a ladder... but something about the place sparked my imagination. What must it have looked like when it was in use? What did people do in there? Who worked there? Why did it close down?
Maybe that's why I'm so interested in the past. Maybe that's why ancient ruins such as Brugh na Boinne and Tintagel and St. Mary's Abbey all excite me so much. There's something poetic in that desolation, something inspiring about the decay and ruination, something tantalisingly seductive about the brief glimpses of history that make me want to see more...
Or maybe I'm just a morbid bugger who likes seeing dead decaying things.
I once got to walk up to an old abandoned building. It was a brick structure around a steel frame, with all the doors and windows missing, except the ones on the two lowest floors had been sealed with sheets of steel. I could have gotten in if I was determined; I could have brought some rope and climbed, or even a ladder... but something about the place sparked my imagination. What must it have looked like when it was in use? What did people do in there? Who worked there? Why did it close down?
Maybe that's why I'm so interested in the past. Maybe that's why ancient ruins such as Brugh na Boinne and Tintagel and St. Mary's Abbey all excite me so much. There's something poetic in that desolation, something inspiring about the decay and ruination, something tantalisingly seductive about the brief glimpses of history that make me want to see more...
Or maybe I'm just a morbid bugger who likes seeing dead decaying things.