The concrete floor is covered with a thick layer of water logged ceiling tiles which have since fallen loose from the grid lattice above. Sludging around the gypsum and fiberglass slush is a bit reminiscent of walking through a heavy, wet snowfall. With each step forward, I leave behind a trail of hollow footprints which quickly fill with murky water, as my boots now caked with the ceiling mush, slip and slide over the slick surface below. Much like after a substantial snow, in some hallways in the mall, the ceiling tile stew has seemingly been plowed to the side with heavy equipment, exposing the cracked floor tiles below. If it weren't currently the dead of December, I'm sure the potpourri of this soggy goo would be nearly unbearable and thats before even being combined with the sight of mold and mildew that would have certainly taken over the interior of this cavernous space.

At the center of the mall, a large octagon suspended from the ceiling appears to hover like some type of alien spacecraft over the intersection below consisting of a series of hallways all converging together like spokes on a wheel at this very central point. A wall of windows wrap around this strange eight-sided fixture, allowing light from the exterior world to naturally illuminate the interior of the mall. However, the placement of the windows does not allow one to see nor gaze directly into the outside world. Rather, shoppers would be spellbound within a capitalist illusion, as the remainder of the ceiling tiles above this octagonal fixture have all been painted to mimic a natural, cloudy blue sky.

Choosing a hallway at random, I continue to push through the artificial snow beneath the unnatural sky above, knowing there is no hope that the pretend sun painted on a ceiling tile above with a smiley face, will melt any of this sloppy ceiling tile mess. Shuttered storefronts line both sides of the hallway, many still sporting their storefront logos and marquees. Some brands like "Blimpie" and "Puma" I instantly recognize. Yet others stores such as "Sam Goody" invoke a sense of nostalgia; their investor's souls having since perished within the war of relentless capitalism long before even this now abandoned mall welcomed its last official customer.

Off to the left, a large pedestal rises from the ceiling tile slop, plastered with seemingly familiar white and baby-blue painted tiles, now caked with rot and slimy with condensation. Yet despite the decay, the rising platform appears so familiar, triggering a core childhood memory within my mind. No doubt this is it, the memories come rushing back. This is where I met the honorable Santa Claus and sat upon his very lap as the mall employee snapped a blinding flash photograph before quickly rushing me off stage past a line of similarly aged children, all before Old Saint Nick could even ask what it was I may have even wanted for Christmas. However, standing here now, it is clear the spirit of Santa Claus has long since left the mall. There are no lines of children, nor holiday decor decking the halls with boughs of holly. No Christmas music plays and no festivities amount. "Santa has left the Wayne Hills Mall" I proclaim loudly, if only to myself.

I could feel nostalgic memories traveling through the ghastly halls and empty businesses, ricocheting back toward me. With nothing but empty and hollow storefronts to impede any such movement, these childhood memories easily flooded back to me. In this bizarre moment, I was time traveling. I could see the current death-row line of excavators and demolition equipment parked just outside the mall fade into the distance as nostalgia continued to rewind my memories further and further back into a pleasant past. Yet the actuality is that I was grounded by the reality that I could not possibly remember what I would have even told Santa I wanted for Christmas should capitalism even had allowed me the time to voice my thoughts to Jolly Old Saint Nick all those decades ago.

Yet, silently standing here amongst the mush and the slop, the forlorn stores and fake blue sky, it seems I got just what I asked for, yet as a child I could not have possibly known. A certain sense of euphoria cracks a smirk across my face. I think just how wonderful it is to see these monuments to capitalism failing one-by-one, all across the nation. For what really is the shopping mall if not just a giant warehouse thriving on money and greed and preying on our worst consumer instincts as humans. In retrospect, the malls, they really do seem like such an illusion but the devastating effects these factories of things undoubtedly cast upon society will still long be felt for years to come.

From the endless asphalt sea's of parking lots providing free homes for automobiles yet not for humans, to the downtowns of numerous cities and small municipalities, decimated in lieu of car culture. Nor can one ignore the Black Friday brawls and the relentless consumeristic mindset sparked by such a "holiday" that fooled an entire nation to line up at the darkest hours of the night to ultimately fight over the latest shitty Chinese manufactured electronics. The shopping malls are a welcomed causality of society, a failed capitalist experiment that values things over humans and robs us all of precious physical land; space that could have been used for people but instead provided a home for merely things. To that I say, good riddance Wayne Hills Mall!