Nestled deep in the woods of a small rural town, where the deer eat out of your hands, an old decrepit psychiatric facility sits encapsulated by nature. Ivy spirals up rusting ornate porch railings and old psychology books on shelves collect sediment from the deteriorating walls. Fresh air permeates the halls of the facility and there is no escaping the lush scent of spring vegetation. While on the second floor porch, I reclined in one of the many dilapidated wheelchairs to regain composure. As I looked off into the gnarled overgrowth, I felt completely at peace, a state of mind that I rarely, if ever, experience. Much like the first time you shared an “I love you” or that instant your head hit the windshield, that moment will forever be ingrained in my memories. Although that might not have been the circumstance for former inhabitants, I couldn't imagine a better place to go mad. It's quite magical.
- United States
The Art of Dangerous Living