The coolest part of my job is that sometimes I get to go to locations that I would never get the chance to see otherwise. This week I was at an abandoned juvenile correctional center, in the middle of a city yet it doesn’t exist on Google maps. It’s like some kind of best kept secret right under our noses that’s standing strong yet looks like it’s on the verge of falling apart.
I tried to look up the history of it, but couldn’t come up with much. Who were the people kept here? What were their lives like? When I walked through the halls I felt like the memories of its residents were all around, but are muted and erased. I tried to read the notes that have been left between window panes, but the writing were faded and illegible. I tried to look for clues in the names scratched into the railings, but at the end of the day, they were just names with no faces and no story.
And that’s the depressing part of all of this. Not just that they were kept in tiny cells, but that after all this time, no one is there to remember.