Wisdom comes?

Just one of the handwritten lines on the walls inside this crumbling nineteenth century Sheffield factory building (see extra for an outside view). I see what may be Minerva's owl on another wall.

It's a Grade 2 listed building, being - to me - a lovely example of its type.  When I moved to Sheffield in 1975, many were still in use.  Later, with deindustrialisation, most closed. Some, like this one, had an afterlife as a music venue with studio space attached.  I think this was a quick win for some commercial landlords, who could get rental income without doing much upkeep. Musicians were prepared to trade poor conditions for a space to rehearse, without any neighbours to complain about the noise.

I am no Urbex athlete; I didn't break in to explore, I think the days of contemplating that kind of adventure are long gone.  I was taking a few exterior shots, when - to my surprise - two men emerged from the derelict building.  They were clearly a bit apprehensive, but soon relaxed when I explained that I loved the building and that I visit it from time to time to take photos and see how it's doing. 

Of course, I asked if they would let me in to have a look around. 'No!', was the quick answer; 'it's really messy inside, that's not a good idea'.  I knew by now that the two of them lived in the building, and could see why they didn't really want a stranger nosing around. We carried on chatting about the sad loss of buildings like this. Then, to my surprise, they had a change of heart. 'Come on in, it's fine to have a look', they said.

There followed a whistlestop tour, up creaky staircases and in and out of dark spaces, littered with all kinds of garbage. Bottles and cans from recent illegal  informal raves.  Abandoned drums, keyboards and scraps of electronic equipment. Smashed furniture from earlier days. There wasn't much time to dwell on camera settings, and I messed up a few shots by inadvertently tweaking the ISO up to crazy levels.  After 10 minutes or so I could see that they were ready to have the place back to themselves.  As I left, one of them ducked into a side room and came out with a very large dog; or, more accurately, a dog with a very large head (and jaws).  One of the guys had recently rescued this dog, probably off the street.  Despite frantic leaping at the end of the lead, the dog was OK with me as I held out a hand within sniffing distance, hoping to reassure him without getting within biting range.
It was a wonderful, unexpected treat to get into the building. It seems that the landlord does have redevelopment plans, but hasn't started on them yet. He evicted the last lot of studio tenants, but these two have stayed on, undoubtedly because they lack better options.  For those few minutes, there was a small act of trust between the three of us: on their side, that I wouldn't report them to anyone; on mine, that I wouldn't be at risk in that building with them.
If it doesn't actually fall down, the facade of the building will probably survive. Its listed status will mean that any redevelopment will have to preserve that, while gutting and rebuilding everything behind it. This is what's happened to many Sheffield industrial buildings. Damage limitation, in terms of the historical record.