A dead work truck rusts near an outbuilding. Everything is marked with a code. Modernity.
In this ghost town where there were brick, wooden, and dirt-brick buildings, the latter fared the best by far.
This mean-looking thing had a purpose, probably, but that function has been lost to decades of expansion.
The spiral staircase ends in the basement, where two oil tanks (for the lantern) and a freshwater tank (for the Keeper) were stored. The basement consists of two long arched vaults like this.
Graffiti by performing artists that hit the stage in the 1990s. I’m no musician, but I do not think it is being played low enough.
The top floor of the apartment seemed so empty without the furniture that once adorned it. Instead, my eyes were drawn to the worn paths in the floor between the rooms.
Detail view of one of the fermenting tanks, still set-up for the distillery tours that no doubt took place when there last were such things. Nevertheless, the capacity of this tank multiplied across these all over the distillery floor really shows the power this company once had.
A multi-family home with an attic bedroom. The staircase was unstable, to say the least.
The sun was setting outside, highlighting the textures and lines that made the form of the power plant take a fourth dimension–time.