Mouthy

The top floor of the apartment seemed so empty without the furniture that once adorned it. Instead, my eyes were drawn to the worn paths in the floor between the rooms.

Too big to be scrapped, to simple to be auctioned. It waited for the demo crews and demo cranes to arrive.

The remains of the surgical suite.

The main shaft’s cable spooled with bird castings belies the fact that lives used to dangle from its steel-wound strength. Arrows on the circles would indicate the mine level the cars were currently at.

One of the staircases that connected the lab, the plant, and the offices.

The last batch of molded metal stuck in the chute, this metallurgical furnace was falling apart brick by disintegrating brick b the time I got to it. On the upper floors there is a sophisticated network of vents and chimneys to make these little furnaces as hot as possible.

Part of the 1917 mill that had a little bit of roof left over it–most of this building was open to the sky. The birds loved it, but everything metal was quickly becoming too unstable to walk on.

Just a couple guys enjoying an industrial ruin.

One of the generators, weeks before it was taken apart to be shipped to another power plant somewhere else.