This is the far interior of the hotel, where the darkness made the shag carpet seem to move whenever the trees outside swayed. That is to say, constantly.
A sharp turn in the coatings department twists the steel out of sight.
A sign hanging near the shop office.
One side of the street is demolished. The other is not.
Safety signs decorated every floor, machine and, yes, door. This message spoke to me for reasons my coworkers will understand; suffice to say, I need to take this message to heart.
A misnomer that stuck.
Isabella A (left) and B (right) were built in 1910 and 1913, respectively.
At night the city lights blast through the broken windows, casting crazy colors through the off-white interior of the mill.
No wonder the factory shut down; everyone was scheduled to work 9 to 5 and the clock’s broken! (In all seriousness, this is/used to be a beautiful timepiece, especially for a utilitarian factory like this.