Flywheel Room

Without a roof, the bricks were being washed away in the later years of the roundhouse.

Gloves hang in the basement of the former quality assurance labs.

The former, and much-altered, main entrance and grand staircase.

In the power house corner is this gratuitously gigantic doorway. It used to be even bigger, too, as indicated by the brick arch another foot over the top windows.

A cloud moves across the attic in front of the window. How? A photographer’s secret.

A different kind of tree fort.

The top floor of the apartment seemed so empty without the furniture that once adorned it. Instead, my eyes were drawn to the worn paths in the floor between the rooms.

Dirty filters for some equipment hang, awaiting a purpose.

Looking from the mill at the old transfer elevator’s steel tanks.