It wasn’t all that long ago that George and I were in Philly for a concert. We went to see the triumphant return of Del Amitri, if you must know, and they were extraordinary. I hope it doesn’t take them another 25 years for them to come back to the States and if they do I will roll there in my wheelchair, but I digress. We took a few days to toddle around Philadelphia. And by “toddle” I of course mean, go to Eastern State Penitentiary, which I have wanted to see for, roughly, forever. As a tourist, not as a long-term resident. I have few standards, but that’s one of them.

I’m not sure why urban decay is beautiful and yet, here we are.

This is often discussed as one of America’s most haunted places, but the conditions the prisoners (or should I say penitents?) lived under—prolonged solitary, forced silence, limited access to sunlight and movement, uncontrolled climate—are horrific enough. I can’t speak to whether or not the building is haunted, but the stories certainly are.