The most pointless, beautiful and nuclear-bomb-proof catwalk I’ve been on to date. It goes between two high levels in its own bottom-lit concrete capsule in the center of the tallest, thickest building. Hang on, we’re riding this one out.
A big sign marks where the elevated walkway is severed where Dock 2 used to meet Dock 3, now gone.
I wonder if these handcarts will become decoration for the hotel being building next to the silos.
Employee lockers near the stage, Service Building.
A 1960s style TV set in a sun room at the back of the poor house. The concrete room survived the roof collapse and was full of rotten children’s books and toys. Perhaps it was where donations were sorted, or perhaps it was a nursery/orphanage area.
Cat paw prints on the control panels. Remember to lock-out-tag-out, Power Raccoons, and keep your own keys.
A leftover swatch remembers the last fabric sewn here.
Holes were cut into the floor to extract equipment from the basements. it was interesting to see the I-beams extending through all the levels of Studebaker.
#67, one of the only lockers that is not crunched to the point it refuses to open. In the corner of the small office area.