If you look close you can see a figure on the water tower.
In the soft wood of the machine, an employee left their mark.
A 8-foot-tall volume indicator that could be read from across the beet boiler floor–convenient when the controls are 20 feet away.
One of the few artifacts left in the chapel section is this old floor buffing machine.
Ringling’s church was built in 1914 and sits on a hill over the town.
An orphan culvert and camper, both tossed aside where nobody that will see will care.
In the days before a centralized fire alarm system, coded whistle blasts would warn when and where a fire broke out.
The flour mill’s interior is really just a system of steel and rubber tubes that crush flour over and over in the gap. This mill was never run off of water power directly, but it used to generate power using the river.
It was obvious which parts of the hospital were the newest, by their relative utter self destruction. It’s comforting to the Cubical Dwellers, I think, to know that as soon as the power and plumbing are disconnected that all hell will break loose and dismantle their suspended ceilings, drywall boxes and fluorescent suns in no time at all.