Humid buggy air loitered in the holes where windows and doors once were. The corrugated tin roof was leaky, rusted, and layered over spongy asphalt shingles. On the cobwebbed inside, feathers stuck to chicken wire and translucent snake skins hung from the rafters. The floor was dirt. Its most recent use a convenient and hidden repository of oversized, unwanted, hard to dispose of junk. But it was a sturdy masonry building with a spacious interior.
Sidetracked designing a CD cover (or not every artist is a graphic designer)
In high school, in the days of audio vinyl, a lot of arty kids fantasized about creating cover art for rock and roll albums.
I wasn’t one of them.