A screen above the floor apparently shields workers from the disintegrating building.
Grain is taken from the bottom of the silos through a conveyor in a tunnel. These blowers keep the air in the tunnel fresh.
Outside the locker room without the sandwiches and beer… plenty of glass shards, though, if you feel like it.
These ruins of buildings recovered acid from the explosives line to be recycled.
When I wasn’t paying enough attention on the rotten balcony, I accidentally put my foot through a rotten floorboard. I snapped a picture to remember the moment.
After climbing the elevator shaft to the illusive second level, a new pallet of colors were revealed.
Squinting from the top floor through the skyway, one can feel small, like they’re in a heavy industrial dollhouse.
The seminal architectural feature of the old hospital–the parts built by Illinois Central Railroad–was this staircase. Wide and graceful, adorned with paint chips and fire extinguishers, and leading from offices to surgical suites to the cafeteria.
An experimental shaft dug in the 1950s and its Hoist House.