Changes

We pulled into the hospital parking lot during a weekday morning; it was busy, but I had a feeling it always was. A strange half-active, half-abandoned scene was beyond the windshield - the everyday life bustling around a hospital building that was surrounded with the cancer of abandonment. The decrepit portions wrapped around the active sections plainly, creating an stark contrast between the two, yet they were one. The 1940s-era concrete walls and minimalist style almost resembled a fortified bunker. A busted out panel of a door was in plain sight, mere feet away from out parking spot. Convenient? Maybe, but too obvious for my liking, but we made it quick and slid in.

The interior was empty, suspiciously clean, and yet very atmospheric. Rows upon rows of glass doors stretched down airy corridors, diffusing the light oftentimes in green or blue hues. Large globes of glass still rocked from their ceiling fixtures, a few even remained unbroken. The solid construction kept the insides of this place quite intact.

As we veered our way deeper in, the building seemed to change. The rooms became cavernous, and the water damage seemed more extensive, making these areas seem ancient. Glass doors became solid wood. Metal fixtures bled rivers of rust down vaulted ceilings.  Perhaps the building was shut down in sections, and this was the first.

Taking a less visible route back to the car, I left a happy person in getting to explore this place.