Why Dead Malls Comfort Me

Thoughts On Vanished Grandeur—and Coffee In Styrofoam Cups

Why Dead Malls Comfort Me

I feel at home in dead malls. When I walk inside and absorb the silence, when I see the empty storefronts and walk past second-rate retailers that barely cling to life inside the twilight corridors, the sights stir up a bone-deep memory of a golden age, and the sadness of it gives me comfort.

I think I love dead malls because I am a Midwesterner, a born-and-bred Kansas City man who has lived most of his life within flyover country. I will never belong anywhere else. I can identify with a …

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