Smashed TVs and stone foundations in a former common room in the basement.
The neon lighthouse, seen from the top of one of the silos.
For some time, tugboats were stored next to the elevator.
A row of security lights line the roof of the power station.
A quick vertical panorama taken on my back at the sweet spot of a great summer sunset. On the skylight is the torch-cut catwalk that used to link the outside of the smokestacks that vented the cupolas.
In an old ward, two men would have shared this room.
Taken several years before the tornado story when the weather, and the condition of the buildings, were nice.
Imagine the voice of an entitled White suburban mother. She’s now talking about oral hygiene in the “urban” (Black) schools.