6th Floor
The day before Thanksgiving I got lost in the aves dept. It was actually more disturbing than its counterpart in the connector - physical anthro. For whatever reason turning corners to find human remains all over the place isn't as disruptive to my mental state as being lost in the byzantine halls of the bird dept. It isn't the fact that, for whatever reason, people have tried to curate birds with every potentially toxic, carcinogenic or endocrine upsetting solution known to man and that it's an open air archive. It wasn't that no one was there, seemingly, or the increasingly familiar horror movie set decor. It had more to do, I think, with this gnawing House of Leaves -esque feeling that the measurments of the hall itself did not make sense. And the fact that places where I swear I saw voides from the other aisle showed no such passage leaving me lost, in the dark, and unwilling to back track in an unconvincingly small space. It isn't a belief in anything supernaturazl or being surrounded by the dead. It's more the concern that someone is there. You wouldn't believe that people could sneak up on you in the silence with the reflective flooring but they do. On the upside they had mentos that I wasn't brave enough to steal. Also they have a birdstrike identification service with grisly pictures. Off the metro now time to go.