A little sheet metal box somehow made it back home.
The crumbling building barely contained the colors inside of it.
The pigeons and raccoons have no use for these, so they will sit empty until snow or fire removes them by force.
The secret sweet-yet-salty center of the nameless factoryscape. Home base, tuned to rule the AC and turn out Product X at record rates, I’m sure.
Looking up at the remodeled projection booth from the small stage.
The top of the annex was bare except for these holes into the silos below.
When the ship loaders were added, a doorway was cut through the metal silo to make a room for the grain handling equipment. Note the dust sensor in the corner of the torch-cut archway.
Each patient had a card of record that reported major events. Births, changes in diagnosis, and for some, death.
On the outside of the steel silos and headhouse is a riveted bulge that does not look like the silos. Inside is this elevator, a rudimentary (read: dangerous) and old (read: dangerous) freight elevator.