The rotting roof looked unstable, but I wagered it wasn't going to come down if I simply tiptoed across the large room, sunlight beaming in.
The walls were completely covered with a graffiti mural, colors both primary and neon.
After walking to the back of the warehouse, I realized we were actually on the second floor, and that there was a floor downstairs and a whole other wing of the building behind us. Though tagged with graffiti as well (albeit less), there was no getting in there or down there safely or without the complaints of my companions who explore less and worry more.
I was surprised to see and hear no birds in the rafters, especially considering our proximity to the water. There were only a few signs of life there, besides the graffiti: a cigarette butt, a plastic chair, some broken glass, and the overgrown trees that have thrived from a rainy summer, and are taking over the land they once claimed as their own.
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