Between the Old Crow and Old Taylor bonded warehouses are some of the fouled barrels, now the only ones left, which were left to rot in the elements. Nearby in a loading bay that has obviously been disused longer than the rest of the property, terra cotta roofing waits in crates.
Look at the floor–do you see the hole? That goes down a lonnnnnng ways.
An old fashioned lift.
Mushroom pillars hold up the dreams of so many, the profits of so few.
A safe distance from Prize Mine is its dynamite storage vault, designed to explode up–not out–should the worst happen.
Solvent pumping buildings, designed to explode upwards rather than outwards in an emergency, are forgotten near the milkweed.
About a second after the explosives were triggered.
Outside the locker room without the sandwiches and beer… plenty of glass shards, though, if you feel like it.
These aluminum powder kegs were forgotten in storage.