empty places

empty places make me feel like there's something more there that i just can't see. do i expect too much? without all of the crutches we rely upon, what else do we have? 

there aren't many empty places left. everywhere you go, you're mediated by something. what you look at determines how you look.

places are layered, bits added on over time. if you look close enough, you can go back to the beginning. do you feel it? being in old, unused places gives you this feeling. there's something more. you can't see it clearly, but it's underneath waiting for the film to be rubbed away.

in empty places there aren't any references. old places have been marked by somebody who used to call it home. you can still see them in it, but it's morphed somehow. years of decay reveal the place's emptiness. 

i'm scared of what that emptiness might mean, the life of empty places.

we make excuses for the way we see things. 'this is the way it is. i see it so it must be real. you're crazy if you see something i don't.' we're stuck in the way we see things. when did seeing become the basis for perceiving, anyway? why does what you see determine the way you experience reality?