Amazing writing on an oddly amazing topic. The stark aesthetic in and of itself, let alone the philosophical and emotional reverberations.

I love: "If this obsidian beach crunching imperceptibly below the soles of my feet wasn't already draining this place of light and sound, I would pull both into myself naturally, without even trying. This is how I see the world. And when I look up, this is how I see the plane. It looks exactly like every magazine clipping, every album cover, every haunting image I've unconsciously absorbed. It feels completely familiar."

This piece reminds me of all of the times, in high school and college in NYC, friends and I would find some abandoned, monolithic building to spend an afternoon in. Just to be there, to revel in the surreal beauty of transience, the fading sunlight on cement columns, to pick up and examine rusted industrial artifacts like post apocalyptic beachcombers. Or climb up inside of a bridge, just because somebody happened to know the way in and why not? Watching the lights twinkle across the empty black expanse of the river from atop those ridiculous metal walkways that sometimes stick out of wharves, jutting out over the water. Clinging to the railings with sweaty fingers and the merciless wind blowing. My girlfriend and I wandering empty warehouse district streets at all hours of the night (oh my fucking God that was so unsafe now that I think about it), as if we were the only two people left alive in a world of gigantic hollow buildings. My fondness for decrepit, condemned piers, where for the small effort of climbing (or finding-slash-making a hole in) a chain link fence, I could be alone with crumbling pavement and opportunistic weeds and the relentless river wind tearing at me.

Thank you for your exquisite, self-reflective writing, and deliciously surreal photographs, I loved this post :)