A Glass of Powdered Sugar

A few sprinkles of dust and plaster in the filtered sunlight fail to make the building foam. Everything remains slightly blurred and muffled, no matter how much one might stir. As one of the oldest hospitals still standing in this country, it has comfortably snuggled into its death shroud, offering discarded autopsy reports as a kind of bribe to let it fade into obscurity. And why not - in here it’s easy to succumb to the pervasive haze. The sounds of the gardeners outside are muted, from another century. The glass that excludes them might as well be a window into another era, one that these rooms will never reach. In the quiet hallways, the flaked and grainy sweetness of rot lingers undisturbed.





All photos © Julia Solis. Contact.