Near the old slag dump there are the remains of the pouring buckets that received the molten steel from the US Steel blast furnaces, filled to the brim with pig iron. They must be incredibly heavy!
Work never done.
The last of four radar domes on the base.
A warning sticker on the interior of a dredge once tied to the old dock.
The west portal of the tunnel is open, and if it wasn’t for the rough track, I would think by looking at it that a train could be coasting up behind me any moment. Mamiya 6/Portra 160
Not necessarily a children’s room.
Gloves hang in the basement of the former quality assurance labs.
One thing I like about the oppressive globalist-wrought future is the idea of numerically subdividing spaces; my geek side sort of wants to live in a flat that can be sorted by as Dewey Decimal-like code.
Seven TV sets and not one shows my reflection. I’d also like to point out not two of these are the same.