Upper Prize Street in Nevadaville earned the nickname ‘dogtown’ when a pack of dogs took over the abandoned houses.
In the mine offices, hooks and a board with numbers was the system to keep track of who was in the mine and who was safe.
The primitive chair caught the falling plaster.
This is a typical view of the factory; most of it was long hallways flanked by piles of equipment and access points to maintain them.
Gaskets still organized on nails beside the power plant. This used to be a maintenance room, but since its roof and walls were torn down, it’s not any kind of room.
After climbing the elevator shaft to the illusive second level, a new pallet of colors were revealed.
Outside the locker room without the sandwiches and beer… plenty of glass shards, though, if you feel like it.
In this old repair shop, vines fall from the rotting roof to meet mossy concrete. Even though it had been dry for days, water dripped in from the roof to make permanent puddles between workstations. It was full of color and sound and industry and nature.