A few years ago, I thought I’d make a project of documenting all the crumbling, abandoned buildings in town. I spent a few months lugging my camera around with me everywhere I went, taking picture after picture of broken windows, cracks in walls, and piles of rubble, but then I became overwhelmed, or distracted, or maybe it was because I had invented another project, which I have now since forgotten, and I just stopped cataloging all the ways in which Sessa is falling apart. That’s a shame really, because it was an interesting project, and I think I might take it up again, though I certainly won’t make any promises this time.
The picture above was one of the first I took, and one of my favorites, but somehow I never got around to posting it on my old blog. I was taken by the way the vegetation has entered from the garden, and by the light that pours into the space from that direction. I’ve been back to the site, once a restaurant called “La Vecchia Dogana” (the name is visible, obliquely, on the painted sign at the far left,) several times since I first came upon it, but each time, I’ve found its subsequent state of decay much less picturesque. The restaurant occupied the first floor of an elegant brick building that looks as though it dates to the nineteenth century, and which reminds me of railroad stations, though I don’t think it could ever have ever been one, given its location inside the walls of the old town.