A high-voltage tunnel sheathed in concrete dips below ground near a shell packing building that now stores fireworks.
Looking through the center of a scrapped generator, its copper long scrapped.
At this junction where Brewery Creek gets a breath of fresh air stands a kid holding a paintbrush: a Banksy (famous graffiti artist) ripoff.
Heavy steel doors to isolate the underground magnetic separation mill from Eagle Mine’s main tunnel.
The secret sweet-yet-salty center of the nameless factoryscape. Home base, tuned to rule the AC and turn out Product X at record rates, I’m sure.
The last trace of Mitchell, Minnesota is a pile of cans on the side of the main street, Mitchell Avenue. These will be recognizable for another century or so, for future history-minded explorers.
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