This is an old picture of a corridor I used to traverse down where I used to work before it was closed some years ago. It was a place where you could meet people in passing, be it, other nurses, patients, Porters, domestics or visitors. It was a corridor between areas I would work on or call on daily, a place for refuge for all who needed it from the busy periods on the ward.
Looking outside you could see the busy world pass on by while day changed to night, seasons rolled into seasons. A place where people felt safe from the problems of the outside world. Warm in winter, cool in summer, dry through the blizzard and storms outside.
Lit up at night like a beacon providing safe passage between wards. Most of the times the corridor was empty, lifeless, or so we thought. After the hospital was closed, some of my colleagues took one more look around at night and found that all though all living souls had left the building, this corridor still kept past over souls safe away from the outside world. I will never again presume that a corridor is just a corridor, a throughway between A to B but a place where lives live on.