When we were kids, my cousin, Carter, whom you’ve met here years ago, and I used to explore the ruins of the once-mighty Whitemarsh Hall. (We called it Stotesbury Mansion, but that was actually the name of its predecessor.) Inside, it looked similar to this. We never had the urge for graffiti (if only I’d had a camera), but the energy was the same: a hidden place for adolescent notions of liberty and exploration. And destruction. This is an outbuilding at Sleighton Farm School. We’ve been here before and we’ll come back again. (2020)
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