by Black Soap

The morning sun rises and heats the broken pavement. The birds and crickets chirping equip the morning breeze with a melodic soundtrack; the trunk closes.

With book bags on our backs, we make a mad dash for the cracked door hidden in the corner behind some overgrown bushes.

We move quickly, swiftly and quietly so the surrounding guards remain unaware of our presence.

First person in, now the next, “Here, take my book bag!” Down the rabbit hole we go.

Wearing masks can’t hide the smell of mildew, mold and rotting sheet rock.

I take a deep breath and move up the decrepit stairs, stepping on broken glass.

A hop from one roof to the next, the sound of the shutter snaps.

A bunch of bangers! “Aight, let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”

words and photos by Black Soap


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