As the sun rose into the crisp blue sky, the air began to warm to an almost comfortable temperature for the first time, signaling an approaching spring. The thick stone walls of the psychopathic building clung to the frigid winter air inside however, and puffs of condensate sprung from our mouths as we made our way through the structure.

While the world moved and progressed outside, we seemed to be traveling back in time as we moved deeper into the hospital. The building we were in had been abandoned in 1979; it was never extensively renovated, keeping much of the interior in original form. As the day wore on, the extravagant red hues of dawn quickly morphed into ultra-bright shafts of daylight, which seemed to only pierce through small areas of thick darkness. The concrete, tile, and exposed stone walls made even the solariums appear cave-like, which was comforting given the bustling activity of the morning shift arriving just outside the windows. Old furniture and documents began to appear in the dim corners on the lower floors. The deepest corner of the building dug into a hillside and dead-ended inside an appendage of a tunnel, which once led to the beautiful Kirkbride building (demolished in 1963). We emerged from the dank time capsule and into the all too crisp daylight, eager to go back again.