No Bibles were left in the pews, only golf pencils.
Circa-1960s graffiti. Someone got their ass kicked.
Since this picture was taken, the roof has totally collapsed in this area.
The sun was setting outside, highlighting the textures and lines that made the form of the power plant take a fourth dimension–time.
Pozo Mine, the most menacing mine building I’ve ever seen. Black and white film, shot with the Fuji GX680, a beast of a camera.
The small door leads to the offices, the large door leads to the shop. My back at this time is to the corrugated steel wall. At the time I wondered why there was just one steel wall, not knowing that 40 years before there was another spot for an engine here. This section of the roundhouse has become a sort of town dump–car seats, cans of paint and tires are piled into its corners.
A corner of the addition is lined with glass cabinets, formerly filled with beds.
Looking toward the old power house, right below one of its arteries.
Sunset through a stained window in the headhouse made the floor feel like a heavy industrial Disney movie.