Above the offices is this little section of factory that still has strips of wood flooring. This may be where the upholstery was cut.
In the later years one of the mine garages was repurposed into a truck repair garage.
A brewmaster’s desk leans beside a long-disused stainless steel kettle. The staircase above goes to another level of kettles, which are visibly older.
One thing I like about the oppressive globalist-wrought future is the idea of numerically subdividing spaces; my geek side sort of wants to live in a flat that can be sorted by as Dewey Decimal-like code.
When I moved from the roof back into the upper floors of the distillery, the plants growing out of the masonry caught my eye. It’s 60 feet up, but looks like it could be an old wall.
Little has changed inside the mill, but since it was built in 1916, many tanks and ancillary buildings have popped up around it.
Copper thieves haven’t left anything behind but the shell.
Looking into the cut made for the streetcar tunnel. It looks like there is a door in the wall, but it’s an optical illusion.