Haunted...

I revisited the "Anarchist" house this weekend with my new photographer friend Sandi - only this time we battled the blackberry bushes (or rather Sandi destroyed them with her mighty mighty snippers of DOOM!) and managed to get ourselves into the back door so we could explore the inside - My first stop was the kitchen....

It appeared to me that there had been some kind of small smouldering fire in there at one time - though there was no stove, (Nor do I remember seeing any sort of sink in there now that I think about it...and wonder if this house is old enough that they didnt have running water indoors when it was first built?) - there was a dishwasher ...but no apparent source of water for it...

I made my way back to the first bedroom "The CAVE" - which was completely filled with what most would consider garbage and filth - and dont get me wrong...I was pretty disgusted with the incredible amount of "stuff" piled up in the middle of the room - but I guess Im odd ...because I wasnt really thinking about how disgusting it was in there (and thankfully, it didnt smell all that bad either) - I was fascinated by all the "things" laying around - they belonged to someone once...why were they here? Why did they leave them behind? Who did they belong to and who were they?

Of all of the writing and graffitti on the walls (and ceilings) - I found this to be my favorite by far - "I want 2 B up high where the wind is born and peace, solitude, silence is king. The trees whisper only among themselves. Cogito Ergo Sum" - I found it quite beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. "Cogito Ergo Sum" is latin for "I think, therefore I am." - so many homeless people are treated like they are sub human...passed by on the streets without a second glance from anyone - invisible to society because we dont want to acknowledge their pain, their situations, the fact that it could very well be US standing there with a sign on the corner someday... They think. They feel. They write poetry and have dreams too....

This house has been haunting my thoughts since I stepped foot on the property a few weeks ago...Im seeing ghosts in my mind - a family lived here once, maybe they moved away, maybe something horrible happened - and then it was left empty and the wanderers found it...and made it a home. There were so many thoughts scrawled across the walls and Im finding myself laying awake the past few nights with images of people I havent ever met - imagining what life was like for them there - who they were before they found themselves in this situation and if they found a way back out eventually...




I finally got around to the front bedroom that had originally caught my attention on my first visit to the property - the only thing I could see from the outside was the writing on the ceiling and I knew I wanted to get back in there to see the rest. I wasnt disappointed. There were alot of angry thoughts, attempts at humor and numerous drawings on the walls. It seemed to be alot different than the graffitti I found in "The Cave" - and I could see the different personalities that had all spent time in these rooms.





Before heading up the steps to the attic, Sandi and I took turns taking photos of the bathroom where she found the frog faced toilet seat staring back at her from beneath the piles of clothing, beer bottles and various magazines laying about. I noticed the religious booklet sitting next to the toilet, on the floor - it just seemed slightly humorous to me (its location at the edge of the toilet)- as well as thought provoking - why was it left open at that page? Were they making a statement for whoever found their way inside next?



Once upstairs, Sandi and I both got to feeling a little unsettled - as we found the main living space of whoever had called this house a makeshift home at one time. There was a slight hesitation at the top of the stairs as we both immediately thought of "What if there are dead bodies up here" or "What if someone is in there waiting for us..." - but we soon realized the place was devoid of any sort of human soul...except what was left on the walls and in the corners of the room.



There was one single matress in the house - torn and ragged, ripped and stained - I didn't want to step on it or really go near it, not just for the "Obvious" reason, but because I found myself feeling a little like an intruder...stepping on the one place these people were able to rest and dream - where no one else could tell them that their dreams were impossible or out of reach. When they finally closed their eyes at night - their dreams were the only thing that no one else could touch. Dreams are the only things that truely ever belong to us and no one can take them away. No one.



I found this little army guy nailed to the wall above the bed. I found it rather interesting that he's not wearing a gun - he's a look out...keeping watch while they sleep...

I think Sandi and I were both quite taken aback by the pretty plastic flowers that had been put up along the rafters - obviously a woman had been living there at one point and tried to make the room feel a little more "homey" and give it a softer woman's touch. It was odd to see the flowers there across from a few random clipped magazine photos - a movie still of "The Planet of the Apes" and what appears to be an asian man having surgery performed on him while he's still awake and alert...it was quite the contrast...

I spent a few minutes up there by myself after Sandi went back downstairs - the emotional part of it all was starting to sink in. There were a few toys laying about as well and I think the Mom in me started to imagine the horrible reality that there are children out there living in places like this...or worse - and mother's/father's that struggle every day to feed them, keep them safe and live with the guilt and shame of not being able to provide something better for their children...I went home and hugged my little girl until she wiggled free.

Before I left the house, I wandered down the basement steps to see the wonders it held in its depths...nothing spectacular really...just more garbage and broken appliances...and a typewriter. I wonder what kind of stories have been written on that thing...and where they are now.

Sandi and I both agree that the discovery of this book in the main living room is probably the most important. I dont understand society. I dont think anyone ever will. Society created this house - the people that lived in it and the people that slowly died every day within these walls.

I know that a part of me will never be the same after visiting this house. Its haunting my thoughts - I never want to go back there - but yet part of me does...to visit the ghosts.

*To see more photos from my adventure there click here
*To see Sandi's point of view from our adventure click here