The mangled vines and ivy held victim the rotting train cars. Like hands from the depths of the earth, the vines seemed to slowly pull the decaying hunks of metal through the frozen ground, their suffocating grip engraving scars into the weather beaten exterior. Shattered windows invited the dry winter breeze inside, where trapped litter and debris swirled merciless about the bare interior.

With each passing wind gust, dislodged paint chips glided down to the floor like artificial snowflakes, piling up in corners, now free from the winds reach. Above, a celling fan wobbled violently ready to rip out at any moment from the fragile chassis. As I walked farther down the line of connected trains, the decay increased to the point where the floor gave out and I was just balancing along a metal beam. Enclosed by the rusted out metal frame, I extended my arm out to catch my balance as I turned around to walk back towards the beginning.