A gate large enough to accommodate a missile, next to the ruins of the guard shack. Wyoming is the intersection of lonely and beautiful.
One of the covered rail loading docks. All of them were overgrown and rust-clad.
A chalkboard halfway to the headhouse is untouched since the mill closed. It still has the cheat sheets!
A bridge crosses the main street of the village; one that goes nowhere. Ambiguity intended.
Funny how sensitive modern English speakers have become to gendered language. I doubt the workers here–almost all female–were offended by this posting for ‘Workmen’s Compensation’.
An old name for an older elevator, as seen from an abandoned rail spur.
Kodak Tri-X 400, Leica M7. Serious enough to write across the side of the tank, but not serious enough to have a sign made.
Lit by the glow of St. Paul’s West Seventh bars, highlighted by the cool blue of the sleepy section of South Side. This castle-like tower can be seen for miles around town; a Landmark at the brewery that brewed a brew by the that name.
One of the four fire alarm panels in the power station.