Lamentation of the Absences of Ghosts
The ghosts that haunted that place had perhaps moved on, no longer caring for it.
We would have never suspected that such a magnificent, magical place could have such a short life. It is now like an endangered language; technically still in existence, but only kept alive artificially, mostly by those who don’t understand it. No one will ever understand that place like we did.
And it will never be the same. We lament over this fact, because where will we go when it’s snowing and we need someone to talk to, someone to make us free warm beverages, someplace to find comfort in four-hour-long conversations that will forever change our lives?
We understand that everything has to evolve. We understand that the world has evolved over millions years, from vast landscapes and undisturbed scenery to a mass of skyscrapers and chaos because of the people who took it over. Everything has a life, and everything must die.
But why did such a small place in the world have to evolve so quickly, banishing everyone who made it what it once was?
Then again, we were the ones who abandoned it. But we had intentions of coming back. And it had already been quickly evolving before we left, becoming more endangered with every passing hour– we couldn’t have possibly saved it. It was losing magic that could not be easily restored, and certainly not with inhibiting forces gravitating against us.
Where did our ghosts go?