With our boots squeaking and slipping atop the long wet grass, we made our way up to the creaking old hospital on the hill. The main building had been secured with metal plates over every window and door - this was the first time I've ever seen something like this (back in 2007 - they have become more popular over the past few years). The metal was thick yet perforated, like a mesh screen, to let the building "breathe" and eliminate excessive moisture that can harbor fungus and mold while doing a fine job of keeping people like us out.
The hospital was definitely breathing as we made our way around the facade, temping us with its sweet, dank basement smell. It looked hopeless until we found a screen that had been moved a little, either by a previous visitor or the entire structure shifting. We slipped in and were speechless as the peeling spaces before us sparkled in the diffused light from the metal screens. Elegant archways between vaulted ceilings disappeared into the murky darkness of the wards in either direction. We were in heaven.