There’s something beautiful about abandoned buildings. Urban decay — I worry that I’m so drawn to it. Does that make me a sick puppy?
Maybe not. This fondness (it turns out) is a known phenomenon, with books, forums and even entire careers dedicated to the subject. Bygone structures are as popular as ice cream, if the internet is to be believed. That isn’t necessarily a good sign.
So what’s the appeal? It’s partly the calm. Like driving on a motorway late at night — the normal bustle has gone. And here you are, alone. The obvious word is ‘haunting’, in the Wearing Headphones And Listening To GY!BE sense.
And there’s character in the resulting decay. One bleak favourite — although not a building — is a water slide that we came across on a beach in Constanta, Romania. Panels were missing, and those that remained were fading from blue to grey. The end pit was filled with sludge. Graffiti covered the sides — possibly done by those same kids who had, years before, enjoyed the slide as intended. That seemed fitting at least.
We asked ourselves: “Who died here?!” But, of course, the answer was “no one”. Instead, that slide had provided hours of thrills. Then, one day, it was abandoned. Another piece of urban decay. And yet, there it still stood — unused, unwanted, but still kind of glorious.