What is it about abandoned buildings that lures me to them?
It's like the walls whisper to me. They long to tell me their stories. The invite me to experience their loneliness and beg me to stand in wonderment of their secrets. I look for clues of the past, of the days when noise, activity, life and laughter filled its rooms and hallways. Now, the only remaining sounds are leaves and vines rustling in the breeze, perhaps the scurry of some small rodent or insect, and of course, those faintly audible whispers.
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