2016. A section of the third floor that has changed a lot over the years. Compare to 2006 shot.
Small stained panes and orange brick. I had no idea when I took this picture that the colored glass would turn the insides of the mill into a bright aquamarine. It was a beautiful intersection of nature and industry, in the most unintended way.
The incinerator’s hardened steel door… useless, but still sexy in a heavy-industrial kind of way.
An old sign directed patients and visitors back to toward the central parts of the hospital.
The sidewalks are littered with rocks.
A small wood-paneled office for the on-duty keeper to use.
There isn’t an unbroken window in the entire historic complex as of 2013.
Some guerilla art for passing drivers on I-94 East to enjoy. Artist unknown.
One thing I like about the oppressive globalist-wrought future is the idea of numerically subdividing spaces; my geek side sort of wants to live in a flat that can be sorted by as Dewey Decimal-like code.