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A building that hummed (S3 E10)
I am sleeping in a building that used to hum. Not the gentle hum of lights or lifts, but a louder…. more muscular sound. The kind that ran through the night and into people’s bones. This place once stayed awake so an entire city could wake up informed. Now it is quiet enough to hear my socks on tile.
The building stands on the corner of Victoria Street, solid and calm, as if it still expects the city to behave. It was finished in 1928 and built for a newspaper called ‘The Dominion. Stone walls, copper details, wide corridors designed to carry noise and movement, I get the feeling that this was a place made for urgency and belief.
Back then, the news was not ‘content’, it was not abstract. It was weight.
Ink stained hands, metal letters set one by one, pages stacked, lifted, hauled down corridors and into trucks before morning. Stories here, became physical things. They could tip a bench if you were careless and they could bruise your foot if you dropped them. People worked through the night here so Wellington could begin its day.
Today, people live here and Tom and I stay in the building as (very lucky) guests. I walk its hallways in socks, holding a glass of champagne, careful not to spill it. The same floors that once felt the rush of deadlines now carry quieter movements. Friends pass between apartments. A lift hums and stops and Billy the fuzzy white cat sleeps through the entire history of print media without apology (or interest)
The building still holds its confidence, and it curves with the street instead of fighting it, as if it knows the city will always have the last word. The walls are lined with Art Deco patterns from a time that believed clarity could tame chaos.
Friends nowadays walk the hallway in comfortable pants and birkenstocks, glasses are carried carefully and borrowed space is treated gently. The building no longer asks for strength, it allows for pause. While I think that some places harden with age, some, simply, grow grand.
This one has. Thanks for drifting with me. Lyss xx
ps Have you ever been inside a place with a second life? Tell me about it here ….
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit driftingnotes.substack.com
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By LyssI am sleeping in a building that used to hum. Not the gentle hum of lights or lifts, but a louder…. more muscular sound. The kind that ran through the night and into people’s bones. This place once stayed awake so an entire city could wake up informed. Now it is quiet enough to hear my socks on tile.
The building stands on the corner of Victoria Street, solid and calm, as if it still expects the city to behave. It was finished in 1928 and built for a newspaper called ‘The Dominion. Stone walls, copper details, wide corridors designed to carry noise and movement, I get the feeling that this was a place made for urgency and belief.
Back then, the news was not ‘content’, it was not abstract. It was weight.
Ink stained hands, metal letters set one by one, pages stacked, lifted, hauled down corridors and into trucks before morning. Stories here, became physical things. They could tip a bench if you were careless and they could bruise your foot if you dropped them. People worked through the night here so Wellington could begin its day.
Today, people live here and Tom and I stay in the building as (very lucky) guests. I walk its hallways in socks, holding a glass of champagne, careful not to spill it. The same floors that once felt the rush of deadlines now carry quieter movements. Friends pass between apartments. A lift hums and stops and Billy the fuzzy white cat sleeps through the entire history of print media without apology (or interest)
The building still holds its confidence, and it curves with the street instead of fighting it, as if it knows the city will always have the last word. The walls are lined with Art Deco patterns from a time that believed clarity could tame chaos.
Friends nowadays walk the hallway in comfortable pants and birkenstocks, glasses are carried carefully and borrowed space is treated gently. The building no longer asks for strength, it allows for pause. While I think that some places harden with age, some, simply, grow grand.
This one has. Thanks for drifting with me. Lyss xx
ps Have you ever been inside a place with a second life? Tell me about it here ….
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit driftingnotes.substack.com