We live in a world of abandoned places empty forgotten places, haunted by the memories of their use. In every town in every city stand these leftovers. Grave markers of a people angry with their past. But nothing is truly empty. So, what calls these places home? What dwells between in the aether?
For millennia, we created mythologies for what we knew to be real. But we've stopped believing in the external, worshiping our own minds instead. But what if every thought multiplied became real? For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them. Matthew 18:20. Perhaps this verse is a warning. What if our fears, phobias, doubts, and insecurities became manifest? What if believing in them conjures them into existence and gives them power, gives them life?
Their portraits hang on the walls of our decay.
