The mill is one of the tallest buildings in the city. It’s too bad that the cupola with its big skylights and flagpole were removed.
Looking out of the American diesel crane at the gantry crane that ran the length of the dock.
The “Bentleyville” Christmas tree, part of a winter light show, in storage.
It was obvious which parts of the hospital were the newest, by their relative utter self destruction. It’s comforting to the Cubical Dwellers, I think, to know that as soon as the power and plumbing are disconnected that all hell will break loose and dismantle their suspended ceilings, drywall boxes and fluorescent suns in no time at all.
I really like the porcelain guides for the silk threads, probably used because they could be polished for perfect, persistent, smoothness.
The winch that hauled the sea leg, a decide to unload grain from waiting boats and barges.
When I revisited the mine in 2013, the hoists were scrapped and sitting by the road.
Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.
Sunrise in the orphanage… between classrooms and whispers.