Gulls check in on me while I climb around the roof of one of the train shds of SWP #4. FP-100C.
“Against the blue sky, its rusting central silos look like rising smoke meeting the last minutes of a sunset. These give way to a corrugated night sky of blue gray, punched-through with staggered four-pane windows, all glassless.”
From Main Street, looking straight up at the A Mill, only the silence makes one think that nobody’s still inside, grinding grain into Pillsbury’s Best.
The the left, the nitrating line in War City. To the right, War City’s sole suburb, Charlestown, IN.
The old mill (right) and power plant (left) with the new mill behind them.
Looking toward the Quenching Tower from the coal tower platform.
Looking toward the Female Infirmary Ward from the long, glass, Conservatory hallway.
Watching the comings and goings of doctors, nurses and new patients was a mainstay of asylum routine; one can find it easy to imagine pale faces pressed against the block glass windows, staring out at the world moving past them.