they are tearing down the building next door. for the past three years, the dilapidated structure has been home to graffiti messages and trash, the remnants of which are now on the sidewalk: an unplugged electric fan blowing in the wind; a beat-up orange eames chair; dust clouds every time someone walks down the sidewalk. now it is just a skeleton of beams and planks.
every half hour, a rumbling passes through the floor like an earthquake. we run to the window and stand there with noses and palms pressed up against the glass, mesmerized by the spectacle. we feel like naughty boys who like to blow up things.
i don’t know what it is about its destruction that is so appealing to me, but the more light and sky that shines through the criss-crossed steel beams, the more beautiful it becomes.