OK, so when I was about the age you see me in my avatar, my parents took me along to a furniture store in downtown Denver. It occupied several floors of an old building, and had something I’d never seen before: a freight elevator with a gate on the car rather than a door and a single lever to operate it. The combination of the old building and this somewhat hazardous conveyance (I was admonished to stand at the back of the car away from the open end) made this my favorite place to visit in town. How is a fascination for creepy old buildings something that seems innate in some people?
OK, so when I was about the age you see me in my avatar, my parents took me along to a furniture store in downtown Denver. It occupied several floors of an old building, and had something I’d never seen before: a freight elevator with a gate on the car rather than a door and a single lever to operate it. The combination of the old building and this somewhat hazardous conveyance (I was admonished to stand at the back of the car away from the open end) made this my favorite place to visit in town. How is a fascination for creepy old buildings something that seems innate in some people?