You would think this is an old broken-down beachhouse until you realize the concrete path winding down to this beachfront is unbroken and almost-new. The coast weathers things like that. Only three years old and part of a development that never got off the ground it’s just another abandoned place of the type I love – markers of decay, our inability to get it up anymore in the final arousal of capitalism.
I envision a North America where shiny highrises are replaced with broken glass and tattered blinds blowing in and out of the holes that were once homes. Which is not to say I relish misery… but an end to acquisition of the ruthless kind. Wild coasts turned golf courses. Forests mowed under for freeways. I think we’ve had enough of that. Catastrophe seems the only way out of this mess sometimes, doesn’t it?