Soft rain on Vulcan’s ashy pyre… Both of these peaks are dead volcanos, too hard to be totally washed away by storms. As a result, they seem to rise dramatically from the flat valley.
A shuttered house at the end of the block doesn’t even have boards on it anymore.
What you see is not a crack in the floor, but a long vine extending ten feet onto the shop floor, as if reaching in to escape the wind and rain.
The railing were jealous of both the bricks and bits, and chose instead to dissolve like this.
The top of the grain handler of Ogilvie’s. The flagpole serves as a lightning rod. In fact, I would not be surprised if that was its primary purpose.
Part of the grain dust venting system, dislodged from its place above the dumping hatches under the grain cribs.
Thick glass windows allow workers to check the beet juice levels in this steel tank. You can tell by the reinforcement that it had a lot of liquid and had to hold against immense pressure. Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7.
A bridge crosses the main street of the village; one that goes nowhere. Ambiguity intended.