I find an almost perverse beauty in what I call rural decay – the crumbling away of abandoned structures in small towns and across the countryside. We celebrate new life, and memorialize new death. Perhaps too infrequently do we pay homage to the transition from death back to life again.
There’s a sadness in seeing what in many cases must have been something rather wonderful, now in ruins. Yet, the process of decay holds promise as it turns even the supposedly most permanant of elements into smaller and smaller particles of debris.
Until, at last, even the greatest works of humankind become wholly-owned subsidiaries of Nature again.