This room’s trim was unlike the others. Perhaps it was for a live in supervisor.
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...based on the tags: broken-windows, tables, windows...
Spare blankets still sit in the bottom of the dresser drawer.
From the bottom of the skyway I looked back, my eyes tracing the vines from the marsh up the smokestacks to the perfect Midwestern sky.
Copper poured from this furnace and was cast by the autocaster on the right into billets.
The sun was setting outside, highlighting the textures and lines that made the form of the power plant take a fourth dimension–time.
The vibrant colors clashed with the silent hotel.
The machine shop today.
Some guerilla art for passing drivers on I-94 East to enjoy. Artist unknown.
Looking through a secure ward door at the destroyed rooms beyond.
Sluice tables stretch into the darkness.