Footprints of houses past; tailings of mines past.
Aaron by the concentrator.
This old Jetta did more offroading than your average lifted tinted loud-exhaust pickup.
Two ghost signs on top of each other. One is for a warehouse.
Another. Planet. Coal crushers and the coke loading line.
Somewhere there was a hoe left on the ground. Given that we had read articles about photographers being mugged around the abandoned projects, we felt it wouldn’t hurt to carry this around. I am glad we did; it made a great musical drumstick against the warped Wheeler Rec Center floor.
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.
The copula where molten metal would pour is on the left. It seems the whole floor was covered in ash in front of it.