The place is deserted, like before, but my visit doesn't go unnoticed by passersby on 240 and somebody honks. Prudence urges me inside, away from curious eyes. The place feels different from the last time because today I am alone and the wind is making the doors creak open and slam closed on their own. There are two of them on both sides of me and I feel surrounded by ghosts.
Outside, a strip of metal dances in the wind near the roof and I think maybe somebody is up there. To my left, a wall of glassless window frames remain closed, save the last two that stand open for no reason.
Not far in the distance a child screams and sounds eerily like a coyote that has corned its prey and I begin to wonder why I came here. My head is telling my feet to beat it outta here double quick time but my feet know better.
I clear my head and remind myself that I love these old places. That they don't scare me. That I am here to record the beauty they have to offer as best I can. I grab my camera, attach the Lensbaby, and begin to shoot.
These distorted color and black and white photographs mimic my mood.







