It was interesting that, even though storms had carried the wooden walkway that stretched under the dock, these piles of spilled taconite remain where they had dropped.
Carter Color used to occupy this block.
A bridge crosses the main street of the village; one that goes nowhere. Ambiguity intended.
It’s like a piece of paper that’s been written on and rewritten, until you can’t read what the original message was.
Negative twenty looks much warmer in retrospect, wouldn’t you say? Taken through the window of a gantry crane cab.
The vibrant colors clashed with the silent hotel.
The old truck scale sits in the middle of what was Nettleton Avenue Slip.
On the left is a bathroom, which is why it has the wire mesh over the door; so it could be locked and still be ventilated. On the right side are small double-bed rooms, which still have their heavy wooden doors. More attractive than jail cell doors, but serving the same purpose.
Below the pressure gauges are rows of little pipe fitting drawers.