Abandoned buildings hold a certain intrigue. I like to think of them as a space where echoes of the past and imaginations of the present collide. I do not believe ghosts reside there. I believe that the souls who once called abandoned prisons, psychiatric hospitals, or Gilded Age mansions home, throbbed so violently with evil, sickness, or life itself, that the walls still have a pulse.
A pulse that sparks a vibration in the human psyche that transports us back to yesterday. Yesterday, when the world’s most notorious criminals sat idle in their cells; when next-level American Horror Story-type shit pervaded the daily lives of the mentally ill; when the Vanderbilts threw parties so extravagant, the hangovers lingered for decades.
The animate beings who bled figuratively while residing in these spaces and literally upon their deaths, brought life to the inanimate structures and intrigue to present-day imaginations. Do we humans glorify these historical figures and events when left to our own devices? Most certainly. The imagination combined with historical retellings have a way of embellishing and glamorizing, do they not?
Probably Al Capone lived a mundane existence with a lame personality to match. Probably American Horror Story is a dramatic embellishment for entertainment purposes only. And probably the Vanderbilts had a lot of duds in their inner circle. Let’s be real – how many people have a flaming zest for life and throw the party of the century on the regular?
A Little MS with a Little MSW 
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