The bathtub fell into the basement, ala The Miller’s Tale. That’s right. Chaucer.
The stage of the theatre still holds hymnals and other vestiges of its time as a church.
Watching the comings and goings of doctors, nurses and new patients was a mainstay of asylum routine; one can find it easy to imagine pale faces pressed against the block glass windows, staring out at the world moving past them.
The top floor’s old-fashioned hospital ways were too much to pass without a photo or two… with the paint falling off the walls it was as if the building was shedding its skin in an effort to become rejuvenated or useful.
2005. Flavored beers are still popular. The flavor concentrates were stored in this bank of fridges.
Old parts catalogs litter the floor. The office overlooks empty shelves. Graffiti glue peeling paint in place.
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.
Mark poses for scale in the natural section of the cave. It appears to have been created by erosion, where water following the natural fault (crack above) washed the sandstone below away, thereby creating a dead space. The stone doorway appeared to be original.