Friday, 13 January 2012

Nothing But Hate





Yesterday I had to investigate a lost property. By lost I mean unknown, in being unregistered. A fairly large building lost in the midst of a wooded copse, a long walk from the road. The very large garden had become wild with the brambles and woodland turning back into forest. Only this small pathway led the way to the house but even that was being grown over. (bottom picture)

As I was alone, I was cautious. The coppice woodland felt strangely quiet, the thicket deadening all sounds. I could't see far through the dense wooded areas and the house itself was invisible until almost upon it.

Clearly derelict and vandalised, it was now home to various people who did who knows what, safe from prying eyes. I didn't know if I'd be at all welcomed if I disturbed them. So I entered the building as quietly as possible but the broken glass and general detritus made that hard. The rooms were dark and gloomy and I really was expecting anything. 

But there was no one around. Inside, the walls were covered with graffiti, and some of it struck me as being of very heartfelt words. The top picture and third down 'fuck facts' in particular.

So I've found the house, but who is the owner? The investigation continues ...
  



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