One evening I spent an hour lighting tea candles through the tunnels below the elevator. It was a magical transformation.
Furnace #6; its catwalk and tapway. Note the lever-operated gutter-blockers.
Don’t let Mitchell Engine House run out of steam…
This view of BCT shows the portico where the main entrance is at the base of the office tower, and the clock.
I love the texture of the rust through the decaying yellow paint.
…out of our depth.
Looking through the trestle toward the ghost town.
A hole in one of the boards casts the inverse image of a tree outside across a peeling sanatorium wall.
We mark our world in unexpected ways… this is how patient possessions would be stored during their stay in the old asylum wards. It’s about the size of a shoebox, and this particular drawer has a name where the others do not. Its place reminded me of the hospital cemetery where more than 3,000 are buried and less than 1% of whom are recorded by stone or plaque in their resting place.