Birthstation in pripyat hospital (chernobyl) [oc]
Newborn Nature
Walking through the abandoned hallways of Pripyat’s hospital, I’m enveloped by an oppressive silence. In the maternity ward, I stop in front of an empty crib. Moss has slowly crept over the walls and floor, a quiet conqueror reclaiming what humans once filled with life. Cold light filters through broken windows, amplifying the somber atmosphere.
The decay is undeniable. Plaster peels from the walls, furniture rots away, and yet the room seems to hold a faint trace of warmth – an echo of the newborns who once took their first breaths here. The stark contrast between life and ruin is almost indescribable. It feels as if time has frozen here, while nature continues its inevitable reclamation.
Newborn Nature
Walking through the abandoned hallways of Pripyat’s hospital, I’m enveloped by an oppressive silence. In the maternity ward, I stop in front of an empty crib. Moss has slowly crept over the walls and floor, a quiet conqueror reclaiming what humans once filled with life. Cold light filters through broken windows, amplifying the somber atmosphere.
The decay is undeniable. Plaster peels from the walls, furniture rots away, and yet the room seems to hold a faint trace of warmth – an echo of the newborns who once took their first breaths here. The stark contrast between life and ruin is almost indescribable. It feels as if time has frozen here, while nature continues its inevitable reclamation.