Shadows cast by the ropes, counterweights, and backdrops.
Chicago looks in as we look out, for holes and trolls where anything goes.
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.
The light masts are there, but it looks like the cables that stretched across the dock with the actual lights have fallen down.
One of a few rolling workbenches to keep the thousands of pulleys, cogs, and belts working properly.
Sheet metal over the windows. A red boot sole in the tumbleweeds. Is it inside, or outside?
This is what the complex looks like today to the bare eye. Dull, monochrome, quiet.
The iron holding up the plaster ceiling is rusted to the point the weight of it is bending it right over.