Here are a few pics from a house I checked out last week. It's on a lonely block in a hardscrabble neighborhood, surrounded by a handful of failed urban-planning initiatives. The view of the garage speaks to me of a certain inner-city ennui. [caption id="attachment_487" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="Not much going on here."][/caption] Inside the house, the feeling of loneliness grew. It seemed that the previous occupants were poor housekeepers, perhaps, but they didn't seem malicious in how they left the home; they just seem to have left. [caption id="attachment_488" align="aligncenter" width="425" caption="There is still plenty of food in the pantry."][/caption] Seemingly spontaneously abandoned properties are my favorite ones to explore. I feel like an archeologist, an urban Indiana Jones searching for the Holy Grail of garbage. [caption id="attachment_489" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="I wanted to listen to this, to maybe pick up some tips."][/caption] There was no grail at this address. No matter. There's always the next house. And there always is a next house. [caption id="attachment_490" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="A wilted memento."]black rose[/caption] [caption id="attachment_491" align="aligncenter" width="425" caption="This mobile was hanging in a bedroom."][/caption] [caption id="attachment_492" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="The basement's gonna take some work."][/caption] [caption id="attachment_493" align="aligncenter" width="425" caption="Left behind."][/caption]

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