one of the things that captivates me so much about deserted and crumbling buildings is the sense of melancholy. these were once rooms that were lived in, people pressed their shoulders against the hallways, knotted their limbs together in the sheets of beds, wrote their names in pencil on the walls, filled their closets with clothes that held the perfume of their skin. when this is all gone, in it's stead is a kind of ghostly nostalgia. we can imagine ourselves tangled up in these places, living other imagined lives.
these photographs by alvaro sanchez-montanes capture these strange voids filled with sand, creating indoor deserts among the ruins of homes once filled with the flux of people. the desert also has that same touch of quiet isolation and paired here with open doors and peeling wallpaper is the surreal "otherness" i find so attractive.