My companions and I are usually very quiet when we're exploring a building, but stepping into Transfiguration's upper floor produced silence inspired by awe rather than stealth. The tile work inside was astounding; the floors, walls, and ceilings were covered in biblical scenes and decorative flourishes. The glass tiles in the intricate mosaic above the altar glistened in the morning sunlight. Even the bathrooms were delicately finished.
I was surprised to find a second church in the basement - less opulent than the upper level, it was also much darker and maybe even a bit sinister. Doors leading out to the street let slivers of light in through their cross-shaped cutouts which glowed like eyes behind the rear pews, while ghostly images of angels stained the walls like nuclear shadows.
Climbing back to the upper level, I found it hard to believe all of this would all be left to rot, much less dumped into a landfill. These days, after seeing the same process occur time and time again, it seems almost routine.