Beads of sweat rolled off my forehead and channeled down my nose, where the perspiration accumulated and slowly dripped, dampening my dirt tinged t-shirt. The stagnant air thick with moisture trapped within the dense vegetation and relentless thorn bushes turned the short hike into an agonizing mountain climb. The white sanatorium building peaking out from the dense brush above seemed to taunt me as I climbed up the steep hill to its calling.

Reaching out to grab tree branches I managed keep my footing as the loose soil beneath my shoes gave way. To anyone who might have caught glimpse of me, I surely must have created quite the mockery of myself. Grabbing onto small trees their form bending under my weight, I must have looked like an insane baboon. Zigzagging from tree to tree I gradually made my way farther up the hill until finally I reached the plateau, where the shuttered edifice of the sanatorium remained, guarded by a incessant wall of thorn bushes.

With just a sweat saturated, thorn torn, dirt covered t-shirt protecting my upper body, meant that my arms would be fully exposed to the bite of the prickers. Picking a stick up off the ground I pushed through natures defense line. Forcefully holding the thorns back with the branch I then quickly walked ahead before letting go, watching as the thorns whipped back into place. Repeating this process eventually granted me access to the decaying tuberculosis building. Hopping in through an opening I was rewarded with the cool air held captive within the dark moist basement of the playground.