We mark our world in unexpected ways… this is how patient possessions would be stored during their stay in the old asylum wards. It’s about the size of a shoebox, and this particular drawer has a name where the others do not. Its place reminded me of the hospital cemetery where more than 3,000 are buried and less than 1% of whom are recorded by stone or plaque in their resting place.
Indianapolis’ beautiful downtown is in the distance, past the gas storage tank.
A pipe bracket seems to have rusted off of the ceiling.
Some of the rotting clothes were in boxes, split long ago from moisture. Others were just heaped in piles.
The generator hall of the last power station, as seen from the gantryway.
Windows provided the 250-some workers with fresh air and light, and helped to keep flour dust from building up in the air, helping to prevent explosions. Today, machines control air flow better without windows, so they were bricked.
She’s a charmer.
Little has changed inside the mill, but since it was built in 1916, many tanks and ancillary buildings have popped up around it.