Unintentional art comes in the form of a beet juice slurry baffle.
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Only two machines sit on the rails in the roundhouse, both oil cars. It’s not clear whether there’s anything inside either, but they have to have been placed here before 1970, when the turntable outside these numbered doors was removed.
While it looks like ground level, everything here is one story above the actual earth.
Soft rain on Vulcan’s ashy pyre… Both of these peaks are dead volcanos, too hard to be totally washed away by storms. As a result, they seem to rise dramatically from the flat valley.
Looking at the boarded exterior of the newer area of the orphanage from its 1914 section.
Small rooms in the basement of the asylum were seemingly too tiny to be used, even for storage.
A teeter totter sits in front of the Memorial Building.
A broken window looking through the First Aid Room and into the Control Room in charge of directing grain into ships. You can see one of the large conveyors on the right, clad in green. Chutes and staircases intertwine seemingly randomly through the big empty spaces.
In the grungy control room, I found a little slice that was never graffitied.
A steel powder keg serves as a door prop on the static-proof wood core floor. Note the ‘XXX’ marking to the left of the double door.