Over Ruined Fences The Grapevines Shield

I think I must like to spook myself a little; as I climb over fences and explore rambling lots or clamber into abandoned trains, tripping through broken glass as pigeons fly out in my face. I read the walls, trying to make sense of the scribbles others left behind and turn every door handle--trying to discover more behind rusted doors. Only to silence my footsteps, to freeze in place as the wind stirs and the train begins to creak and I worry about discovery...