This view of BCT shows the portico where the main entrance is at the base of the office tower, and the clock.
Small stained panes and orange brick. I had no idea when I took this picture that the colored glass would turn the insides of the mill into a bright aquamarine. It was a beautiful intersection of nature and industry, in the most unintended way.
Even with a hundred people parked in front of the lakeside relic, it was invisible.
A small upper level was accessible via ladder through the hole in this ceiling. Ben for scale.
“Paint the fence,” they said, but I don’t feel like it… who cares, anyway.
Many outdoor areas of the plant have become unofficial city dumps. The skeleton doesn’t care.
Grimy windows and the other half of the complex trade interests and stares.
From the street, it’s clear that almost every window and door had boards over it, but not every building had a roof. Silly priorities.