Above the offices is this little section of factory that still has strips of wood flooring. This may be where the upholstery was cut.
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Looking toward a void–formerly a hallway to the mineshaft–now a hole in the ground.
After crushing, these machines would float lighter material to the surface of the water, where it would be skimmed and discarded. Gold and silver laden stone would sink to the bottom, where it was collected for the next stage of processing. Leica/Summilux 35/Ektar 100
Between the catwalks of Furnace 6, the molted ore would flow through the chute.
Looking through the dark door at Shaft 3, when my naked eyes could only make out a staircase lit dimly from above.
At noon, the lower skylights around the shops glow yellow-green, thanks to the flora blooming on the roof above.
Fluorescent lights peel back from the walls like caterpillars, rearing up and away from the glare of the sunflower-fans.
The bathtub fell into the basement, ala The Miller’s Tale. That’s right. Chaucer.
The man behind the curtain watches, but doesn’t say anything. Probably the smartest one in the room.
HDR matrix panorama. Looking from the grain elevators, now doomed, toward the city between the flour mill’s water tower and tile elevator’s neon sign, the old and new economies seem almost united. Yet the financial centers rise in reality to shadow the now-abandoned industry and manufacturing. The way of things, I’m told.