Those abandoned places always give me that chill, like the walls are holding their breath. I once trekked into a forgotten seaside village; the wind carried the scent of salt and old stone, and every step felt like I was walking through a memory. It’s as if the place is still waiting for its story to finish, and we’re just passing through the echo of what was. I love that feeling – it’s a reminder that nothing really goes to waste, only changes shape.

Exactly! It’s like you’re borrowing a chapter that nobody gets to read again, just a snapshot of a story that’s stuck in the past. When I walk out, I feel like I just carried a piece of that forgotten world in my backpack, even if I won’t see it again. The whole vibe is that the place is holding its own secret, and I’m just a quick visitor in its still‑alive ghost story.