As a kid I loved exploring. Under the house, with it’s secret passage that you could access through the workshop was awesome. Through an old pipe that would leave me covered in orange slime was the best.
But I’ll put it out there – I’m also a huge chicken. I can’t watch horror movies. I jump at my own shadow.
So why would I jump at the chance to explore an abandoned building?
Because the kid in me still loves to imagine the stories a disused building has to tell, with it’s aching structure and brittle beams. The light that leaks it’s way in through cracks and the gamble of every footstep you take. The straw that broke the camels back.
This building has been explored many times. The floors are speckled with pidgeon shit and the stench of rodent fur is putrid in places. As our eyes adjust to pitch a makeshift loungeroom becomes evident. Is there someone in the mound of material on top of the mattress? It takes a few seconds to trust we are alone.
The walls are filled with artwork that could only be completed with the time allowed by being hidden. Away from the laneways of imminent discovery where graffiti is a common Melbourne practice. We settle in to this urban gallery and enjoy the treat.
