There is nothing quite as disturbing as staring off an upper balcony of a gutted high-rise at its equally dead twin.

Adding to the eerie aesthetic element was my personal relationship with the building I was in. In secondary school, I used to stare out of my classroom window at these behemoths , as well as deliver Meals-On-Wheels to clients in the buildings on lunch-break. When I heard of the imminent demolition, I just had to pay the pair one last visit.

Between the buildings lay a wasteland that seemed almost impenetrable. Broken metal, brick and glass covered what was once a sweet little parkette...

Walkiing through floor after floor of empty hallways, the silence that permeated this space grew more and more incredible...

Very little remained to remind one that hundreds of individuals and families once dwelt here...

Those familiar with my photography here know my affinity for rooftops; access at this location seemed sketchy though, to say the least, so we backed away...

From certain angles, I caught glimpses of the football field of my alma mater where I spent many evenings cheering for our team, or doing laps...

The image of a lone tree on a balcony reminded me of the entropy this property would never see, its razing already in process...

Unlike most of the buildings I explore, these did not have any historical merit -- at least not to anyone who did not dwell in or deal with them. It was merely the potential of vast emptiness that drew me to visit them before their death. I am at one point sad that a familiar landscape to my own years past was about to change, but at the same time excited to see what will take their place. After all, they all fall down.

(To see the rest of this series, as well as hi-res. versions of those above, you can check out my flickr slide-show below.)