romance, just for the heck of it

i like to think that what i’m seeing is a view that’s been seen before. preferably long long ago, and by a kindred spirit, looking out at the gloom and thinking of the sootiness of the yellow gas lamps within.

this building used to be a coach factory, built a bit pre 1900, with a thriving livestock market in the next plot of land. it could be that in this, incidentally the longest structure for miles around (and the longest one of its vintage surviving today) there roamed a lonely soul, doesn’t matter if living or ghoul, who would pace up and down the corridors, caress the whitewashed bricks, and peek outdoors timidly. rain would leave fine sprays at the corners of the plain white wooden framed windows, making the panes look frosted and exotic. and then someone would wipe them away with a grimy rag from outside, throw a lecherous/pitieous/insulting look at the lonely ghost/person and disappear back into the milling market crowd below. at sunset, early in the pm, flickering lamps would replace the anyway inadequate sky for light, and the smokiness would bring on a new, long night.

night could be exciting here though, with impish thoughts and secret plays. i haven’t found out yet.