There’s a house around the corner from me that has fallen victim to all kinds of disrespectful behaviour over the years. I’ve always felt sorry for it. Recently some squatter set fire to it and it has been boarded up ever since.
Some loved ones don’t appreciate my naivety when it comes to the strength and support of old floors in derelict structures and since the roof of this house had holes and burnt boards all through it with metal bits everywhere hanging from the mostly open ceiling, I decided to scale it on my own. And I would lie if I didn’t admit that my heart was beating drumlike in my ears and the adrenalin snaked its way through my veins. On my way down my dress got caught on some wirey bits and I couldn’t use my hands to untie myself as I was hanging on to the side of the building with all my might until I got a strong foothold and I could adjust my clothing layers ladylike again. I would have been such a sight from the street hanging off the building in my undies and my dress half way over my head. I guess, at heart, I’m still a child climbing trees wondering how different the view might be from up there.
There’s also a couch that never moves from a parking lot near us. I should take a book over sometime and keep it company for a while.
Perhaps it was asbestos or too much fresh air, but I somehow caught a cold over the Easter weekend. Perfect time to curl up and take out my paints and pencils...