The Spaces In Between
Empty spaces call to me. I can’t explain it, but they do. Perhaps it’s unexplored longing or the absence of something that calls to the absence in me, but darkened paths and crawl spaces, abandoned buildings, and empty alleys all carry a certain appeal.
I don’t frequent them, but I appreciate them for what they are — spaces that are forgotten by time and people.
These spaces haunt me. Things happened here once a lifetime ago — terrible things. Bears, monkeys, big cats, and birds at the Old Los Angeles Zoo were housed in cramped conditions for their entire lives. These spaces echo with their misery, maybe. Maybe they weren’t that miserable. They weren’t tortured, but they were neglected, held captive to be looked at with nothing to do all day, any day. That seems like misery to me. Neglect is a form of abuse.
