Before there was a row of double rooms on the left and a common room on the right. Now, in a way, it is all one big common room.
Looking out of one of the biggest houses in Animas Forks toward the rest of the residential district. It is hard to imagine the life the people here lived, for those that stayed the winter.
A bridge crosses the main street of the village; one that goes nowhere. Ambiguity intended.
After a little rain, the roof took on the color of the bright pink letters.
The copula stacks were fitted with scrubbers. Making metal is a very polluting activity.
While walking out I snapped this last shot of the sunset drenching the castle-top watertower (staying with the theme), right before the sun dipped below the hill across the stream from which the whiskey was distilled.
Looking at the side of 4B from the roof of its car shed.
HDR matrix panorama. Looking from the grain elevators, now doomed, toward the city between the flour mill’s water tower and tile elevator’s neon sign, the old and new economies seem almost united. Yet the financial centers rise in reality to shadow the now-abandoned industry and manufacturing. The way of things, I’m told.
The generator room was state of the art when it was installed, allowing the complex to use motors and electric lighting ahead of its competitors.