One of the few windows that escaped steel plating the last time the hospital was sealed tight to let nature roam within.
A damaged roof channeled rain onto the adobe walls, cutting them in half. In the distance, a preserved house and the ruins of the Colmor School.
When I looked out of the old mill, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was holding it all up.
Every floor of the main hospital buildings had its own bathrooms. They often make obvious the fact that these buildings were intentionally built as permanent structures. Even a century after they were built, and several decades of total neglect, they were in fabulous condition.
Everything is texture.
The Osborne Mercantile reflected in Twohy Mercantile’s eastern windows, minutes before subset. The current owner has done a fair job replacing broken windows with plexiglass to keep the elements out.
The balcony used to be beautiful, you say. I say, it still is.
Judging by the bed, this room was used by employees in its later years.
The porcelain hoops guided the silk threads through the device.