It was a strange choice, although I appreciate it, for the firm reusing the shops to brick up the doorways while leaving the doors.
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A few of the stalls in the older section of the roundhouse, the noon sky peeking in.
The basement of the ruined Masonic cottage.
Tarpaper telling time- Wood wittling weather- Rust rot ruins.
“Peter”
Inside the main entrance is a whiteboard and mirror, then it branches into discrete spaces.
Officers got houses and the honor of living near other officers. They call it Officer’s Row.
Timbers overlap where mine cars plunged, a strange wooden fence traced the center of the beams.
Although most of the buildings were open and empty, a few carried signs.
A typical dwelling in San Luis. I could not tell if it was occupied, but most of the town is abandoned.