I love houses that have been abandoned, that are in some state of decay, whether it is minor or extreme. I love open windows and broken windows in abandoned places. I am thinking about why.
I love history. I like to imagine what and who the houses once held. I like to imagine that life went out of those open windows when people died there, if they did, and that their spirits can return through there if they choose to. I like that trees and plants, cats and birds and small creatures can all come in and live in the houses as well. I suppose I like the fact that they are dead and yet they aren’t dead; damaged but still providing shelter.
I think perhaps too they symbolize the body directly, after death, returning to the earth from which it came, minus the spirit that fled through the window.