One by one they walked away and slowly it was emptied of all it’s purpose and all it’s memories. It was once but is no more. Only the healing scars from the scratches of those who lived there remain as if to say, we now return to our regular programming already in progress.
It is in these places that I am comforted it whispers to me – No one is here now, they shall not return. In this place you are safe.
It is not only ghost towns. All abandoned and peopleless places call to me. A corner of a garden in full view with the thinness of winter now obscured and forgotten in the fullness of summer is for a season at least, – abandoned.
A usually busy street but as luck would have it, everyone is away on holiday. A schoolroom with no school today. No students crowding or teachers crabbing. The Hall before or after the dance. Empty. Abandoned. Vacant.
In a church in mid week between the next sermon and the last, I can glory in the empty that is all. For me that curtain closes once people take their seats.
It seems to me that in the company of others there is a rush to madness. All primping posing and politeness. My authenticity is strangled so that the group can breath. Each such experience leaves me dull and dismembered. After a lifetime of such encounters I am left with a bag of parts and i have forgotten how it all goes together.
So I am off in search of ghost towns and forsaken places to feel the shape of empty spaces and be alone to become all one.