I grew up going to malls. For a time, they were a genuine cultural phenomenon, temples to consumption perhaps, but also places to gather, wander, discover, and simply be around other people.
There was something distinctly analog about the experience. You held things in your hands. You browsed without knowing what you were looking for. There was that smell in the department store you entered through, all the perfumes at once, almost painful. You tried on shoes while someone disappeared into the back and returned with each new pair in a partially opened box. You encountered things that hadn't been selected for you based on what you had clicked on before.
I photograph these places now as they empty and disappear. I don't necessarily mourn the version of capitalism they represent, but I do wonder about the social experience we might be losing with them. These enormous buildings were designed around the presence of people. Without them, what remains feels both strangely beautiful and haunted.