House of the Butterfly

The window of an old house along highway 137.

There is an abandoned house hidden in the overgrowth along highway 137 on the border between and . I have seen it several times before but had not previously had the opportunity to stop and investigate. Today I took a closer look and my suspicions were confirmed—it was once a beautiful place. There are two floors, several bedrooms, wrought iron railings, and a balcony that wraps around most of the building. There is also a yard—a rare thing in —that is now overgrown with plants, many of them sending tendrils in through broken windows.

Someone has dumped loads of bricks on the ground floor of the old house.
Webbing wraps much of the wrought iron barring the window.

One image in particular arrested me: the sight of this forlorn butterfly embedded in landing of the central staircase. The golden sun oozed in through frosted glass, casting it in a most splendid illumination. I stopped to think about how many little feet had pounded up and down these stairs over the decade and what their lives might have been like. Why do places like these get left behind anyway? People would rather live in sheet metal shacks or concrete high-rises? It is a mystery to me.


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