The Goat Farm

I just adore this place, the Goat Farm – it’s rusty broken-ness holds a certain charm for me – you see, things that are broken and weathered through time represent a lost usefulness – a lost love of sorts.

I imagine once upon a time, this industrial site filled with people, proud of their livelihood, busy working as trains flow by…I imagine the big machines in use and the light streaming through fresh new windows.  I close my eyes and imagine this place new, in use, loved, hated…and then when I open my eyes, this is what I see.

xoxoxox,

Meg

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