An abandoned building covered in ivy intrigues and fascinates me. The shape of the building still clear to see, but all the details so painstakingly and lovingly created by the builder and craftsmen now invisible behind the green shroud of overgrowth.
What happened?
When did the owner leave?
Did he walk away with a heavy heart, leaving the place he'd hoped to create many more good memories dreaming one day he'd return?
The outline of the building remains and any passer by can easily recognise what it was; but their fleeting glance reinforces that they are broadly dis-interested in what it is now.
The four external walls wrapped in a green blanket of ivy with the bricks and pointing crumbling away, the interior damp and dark with an eerie silence and smell of rotting timbers and mold.
Not the beauty it once was.
And yet it's still here.
Strong, imposing, casting a silhouette of elderly grandeur against the orange dusk of the evening sky.
We shouldn't disregard what is already here, nor should we ignore what has been here for longer than many of us.
The stories and history held in those buildings, the memories our elderly recall, the strength and beauty of the old trees - we know so little.
"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots." - Marcus Garvey
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