The top floor’s old-fashioned hospital ways were too much to pass without a photo or two… with the paint falling off the walls it was as if the building was shedding its skin in an effort to become rejuvenated or useful.
I don’t think we’re anywhere near maximum pressure anymore.
Many outdoor areas of the plant have become unofficial city dumps. The skeleton doesn’t care.
Each room is painted a different hue, so the light reflecting into the hallway carries those colors. The blue padding on the left is for one of the padded rooms…
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
A dead work truck rusts near an outbuilding. Everything is marked with a code. Modernity.
Between the gauges for the power plant boilers and the steam pump flywheels.