The following link contains images taken by the artist Niki Feijen. There’s something inexplicably beautiful about places like this. Decay. Why? A bowl of fruit decaying is surely foul? I may be in the minority in finding beauty within the buildings, but I surely do. We see time as the victor he always is, in all his splendour, defiantly poking a withered middle finger at society, humanity. He is the eternal winner, and I’ll bet that comes across with a slap to the senses if stood right there inside the crumbling mouldering walls. It’s not static either, constantly morphing, falling, piling up, plaster against broken glass, soil against the mattress.