Lift

Looking from the mill at the old transfer elevator’s steel tanks.

Energy conserving window plastic does no good when the doors are all open and the heat’s off.

Algae grows where water flows/From the sawtooth roof/To the mines below/The sun climbs high/But is in no one’s eyes/A wall alone crumbles/It was no suprise

Shadows of the timberwork and cribbing are cast across cracked lake ice. My footprints follow cat tracks.

Seating in the former top balcony is now front row for a secondary stage above and behind the main house.

North of the assembly complex is a storage network of earthen and concrete bunkers.

Hand painted fire extinguisher notices and a long room which I strongly suspect was a pattern cutting room.

Almost all of the doors and windows on the ground floor have been boarded, leaving the ground level very dark.

A screen above the floor apparently shields workers from the disintegrating building.