The old hotel doesn’t like to show its age. Indeed, if it had a few paint job and soft remodel it would be fit to open–that is, if there was a need for it in this tiny rural New York town.
A small wood-paneled office for the on-duty keeper to use.
This was taken before the top of the docks really started to rot-out; now this stretch past the crane is distinctly unsafe to cross. Still, you can’t beat the view of Dock #2 winding into the distance, where the approach is chopped-off before the yard used to extend.
A sentinel stands watch over an abandoned Hannah, ND house. Medium Format.
The building collapsed except for the back room. The slats of the roof cast lines of light across the floor.
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.
Gloves hang in the basement of the former quality assurance labs.
The incinerator’s hardened steel door… useless, but still sexy in a heavy-industrial kind of way.
The machine stood the Atlas missile up vertically over the blast pit, launching position, once the roof opened.