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.
One of the few artifacts left in the chapel section is this old floor buffing machine.
By the looks of the custom work bench, someone in upholstery got a little carried away!
Seven TV sets and not one shows my reflection. I’d also like to point out not two of these are the same.
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.
A strange arcade machine in the basement.
A clicky-flippy clock is having some kind of malfunction.
What looks to be a skip for repairing the dock, in the concrete steeple.
Can you imagine workers in a food plant smoking on the job today?