July 11, 2006

The Alma College for Ladies sits abandoned in all its imposing Victorian glory on a forgotten residential street in the middle of St. Thomas. Like all abandoned buildings, Alma College is also haunted by ghost, vagrants, and photographers.

We trespassed on the college grounds at sunset, armed with cameras and tripods. Our mouths were opened in amazement as we circled the building trying to find an opening. Though its windows are boarded up and its doors chained shut, the building still maintains an air of dignity.

Thus, I felt humble when I finally crawled inside through a second story window, my feet crashing unto broken glass on the floor. Laura was too short to reach up the wall, so she stayed behind with Simon as I scoured the building trying to find a more accessible entrance. But there was no need for that. I came back to the window to find her perched on the ledge.

“How did you get up here?” I asked amazed by her shortness.

“I’m a monkey,” she said.

We helped Simon bring up his equipment, and once we were all inside we were moved and silent with wonder. Sunlight flooded through the broken windows from the West, and there was dust and tension everywhere. We walked from room to room, got naked, shared moments of longing and passion in abandoned corners. Whenever I held Laura in my arms I could feel her heart beating faster and faster, her eyes full of fear and love.

After exploring vast, abandoned rooms and turrets, and walking on endless rotten floors, we climbed back down to the ground, our hearts somehow filled with memories of the place.