This is a picture I took of a dilapidated old barn
I came across in the English countryside.
Looking upon this desolate empty place, a structure that was once but is no more an inhabitance an eerie silence fills the air. It's only comfort is in the partaking of daily rituals with its surrounding, the rising of the sun, rustling of the wind, the cooing of birds, the marching of ants and crafting of spiders as they construct their webs. Small things that one often takes for granted, things that could easily be missed in the hassle and bustle of everyday life are the hope and lifeline of this otherwise lifeless empty shell.
The day before it was brand new, cement wet upon the bricks, wooden planks resonating from its introduction to the nails creating a union that would outlast its use. Solid and secure it stood tall and proud, daring the forces of nature to test its façade. Its manicured lawns and floral array spread across the landscape inviting the eye to wonder at its beauty.
Like the lines upon a tree, marking its age, time marks this space with abandonment, wearing away by nature, and eroding effect spreading like an unquenchable fire across its frame, rotting away the promise of yesterday, taking away the hope of tomorrow. The wilderness that grows around it confirming its abandonment by the world, its emptiness evidence that love indeed has moved on... though it may have once lived here, it lives here no more...