Even in the middle of the day Hillsborough seems dank, drab, cavernous and depressing.
Old flaking blue paint, tarpaulin, grimy corrugated iron and plastic pockmarked with holes and the outlines of signage which has long since tumbled to the floor, flickering strobe lights, damp concrete and a ghostly, long condemned corner used as the final resting place for bits of old goal post.
18,000 souls in their Pokemon hoodies, with ill fitting 'Sanderson' emblazoned replica shirts pulled over the top, rattling around in a stadium which could once, many years ago, hold double that amount, although it never did.
A sad and haunting sight like an abandoned hospital or the crumbling shell of an all inclusive hotel in Benidorm left unfinished because the developer went bankrupt.