To leave a place behind and let it fall apart is a painfully isolating, yet touchingly elegant thing. The beauty that this building once held and continues to hold so tightly onto, juxtaposes how I appear externally. As soon as I crawled through the broken back window of this huge mansion, I knew this house was what I needed, or, what I needed to see. Exploring each room I could see my psyche reflected in the vibrant peeling paint, my conscience filled the holes in the walls, and my body was the emptiness of the rooms, devoid of all furniture. The vacancy of the tattered rooms reflects, visually and symbolically, an internal struggle I manage daily. This house was me.