Play on, Hunter. (Two keys worked on this thing.)
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...based on the tags: people, pianos, quarantine, sepia...
There is a flipped tram car about a third of the way down the cliff.
The view into one of the asylum rooms of Norwich Hospital. A long time ago, a window broke, letting the vines crawling up the bricks outside to move indoors and across the floor.
Colleen on the roof.
“See anything?” “No, just more of it.” “How much to go?” “Oh god–we’ve only seen about 10%.” “Guess we should keep moving then…”
The women’s ward had a player piano in it, likely a donation.
In the middle of the foundry, an office is untouched by scrappers, legal and not. Inside, warnings and catalogs for machines that are gone, obsolete, and melted down.
The roof compromised, rain water rolls down the main stairway.
Jef throws open the back door of an alley for the trailing photographers and historians.
This picture shows the challenges of moving around underground in the base.