Today was the launch of the Death Mook, in which I have a piece on "Dead Space".

Although I use the term loosely to define abandoned spaces where decay has taken hold, I also like the idea of a link between "dead" spaces and urban cemeteries. While the former are locations of previous life, dead to passers by, cemeteries are much more specific locations of the dead. They are meant to be sites of remembrance, but in the city in particular, are vulnerable to a spectacular kind of decay which, like abandoned buildings, takes place amidst the vitality of a busy city.

In the same way that I am drawn to urban ruins, I am fascinated with semi-abandoned urban cemeteries. Of the few in Sydney, my favourite is the Gore Hill garden cemetery, on the Pacific Highway - with the Harbour Bridge and the UTS tower in view from the front fence.

This overgrown collection of blackberries, palm trees and wild flowers rather gives the feeling of a secret garden, which just happens to have a few grave stones scattered within it. If you can ignore (or embrace) the morbid purpose of the place, it's not hard to believe you have stepped into an enchanted fairy-land (albeit a small one, bordered on all sides by busy roads, high rises and car parks).

In this case, a mill!

Or should I say, The Mill. This is where it all began for me, peculiarly enough; a place where the story of what was has very much ended, emerging as the story of what once was. I have been obsessed with ruins, urban decay and abandonment ever since.



I love the Mill - almost perversely. If I could snuggle up to it, there is no question that this is where you would find me, most days. I hold my breath when I approach it's precariously perched carcass, afraid that everything will be gone; smashed, broken up, and carted away - leaving the merest suggestion that anything of significance was ever there at all.

I wish we could just leave things to fall apart... I wish I knew that the Mill would always be as it is now; a gorgeous ruin. Instead, when I set off to visit my lovely Mill, there's always a possibility that it will be gone, that I never got to say goodbye.