Tonight I had the thrill of walking the tunnels underneath the hospital. I needed to leave the main hospital and travel 7-10 minutes, under the ground, to get to the psychiatric building. A building that used to house the nurses quarters back in the day, an old building with the speckled marble floor and institutional grey paint. Through the tunnel one walks, past the morgue, plant services, to the more secluded forgotten parts. The hallways littered with the skeletons of old beds, shoulder height trash bins in which your imagination sores on there contents. Wondering if anyone could sneak in here during the day and stow away, hoping to scare the crap out of a lowly hospital worker.

In the tunnel your senses are sharp, listening for sounds that shouldn't be there, your eyes darting across the abandoned clutter. Tonight I had noticed something that I had never paid attention to before. The smell. Our hospital is fairly new, and with that, usual smells, smells that you can place the origin. As you cross the threshold of the old psychiatric unit it changes. You can sense the age of the building, the history. Decades of smell combined. If anyone has ever been in a untouched aged building before, you may understand that musty odor. It felt familiar, like the smell in ones grandparents home.

Just something I noticed walking the old tunnels...