Echoes of the past

I pass this building on way to work. I sometimes see it at lunchtime. The echo of the past, now shattered and broken. I love tenement buildings, I grew up in one ... a bit like the Tardis ... always bigger on the inside.

I always feel there's something sad about a tenement torn apart, a shadow of its former glory. I wonder of its stories, the people who lived there, the building still stands, the tenants long gone. Hopes, dreams, sadness, a new life begins an old one passes into memory.

If this building could talk ... what a tale it would share.