When I was a child, I believed the abandoned, derelict house at the end of our street was haunted. But when I became a man, I put away childish things and realized the house actually provided a great redevelopment and investment opportunity.
The only ghost here was the melancholy specter of that old, crumbling Victorian home, which needed exorcizing then demolishing so a new, nondescript apartment block with underground parking could be built.
I jest grimly, of course. I'd much rather reside in a haphazard neighborhood of haunted houses than a planned community gridiron of Soviet revival rabbit hutches.
Alas, each year we welcome more condominiums and increased boxification. It's like seeing the ground beneath my feet shift from handmade walnut backgammon board to some kind of computerized chess interface.
This is progress, no doubt. The modern lifestyle comes to town. The only problem is that the apartment blocks seem to be as empty as the abandoned, derelict houses. Occasionally I spy the blue glow of a widescreen TV as big as the wall but often the windows are dark.
At first, I thought the occupants must toil away all night in their "tech district" offices downtown, not getting back until past midnight. But these days everybody is supposed to be working-from-home and the lights are still out.
Does no-one live there at all? Perhaps it is these apartment blocks that are really haunted; haunted by the dead financial dreams of their developers and investors, by the phantom of ground-floor retail-space zoning.
