A Home for the Homeless

It was early April, and although spring was approaching quickly, the cold pervated throughout the hollow jail cells. The place was alive with dripping noises from rain coming in from the disintegrating roof and long-gone skylights. Something alive stirred in the dark - one of the residents of this rusted corpse. He was pretty nervous until we were all clear on our sole intention of photographing the building, after giving him some cash and a smoke he loosened up and got chatty. He said there were about ten people living inside... it seemed like such a cold, damp place, but I suppose it was one of the few areas one could actually have a private room.

The lived-in cells were covered with some boards or cloth, and we tread lightly past them on the narrow tiers. I think we all thought about two arms rushing out of the cloth and pushing us off the edge, or dealing with someone at a dead-end block with no escape... luckily this didn't happen. It was good to see the old jail again.