For years, the Ford was docked next to the former Pennsylvania and Reading Railroad anthracite coal dock.
The top of the docks are so rotten in places that you can see the lake through the boards. In the foreground you can see the controls for the chutes, which work on a clutch.
A cloud moves across the attic in front of the window. How? A photographer’s secret.
The basement of the laboratories is the home of the ore grinder. I’m sure it was noisy.
The organ and bits of glass that have lost their way. Try not to see the upside-down wooden cross dangling from the stained-glass-crown on the church’s front side. Of course, it’s to keep the loose panes from falling out onto the road in wind, but at the same time…
This side of the mill, which abuts the Great Miami River, is much older than the other side of B Street. You can tell it went through many revisions.
Looking toward Mitchell from its last building.
Somewhere, Bruce Springsteen is playing while an exceedingly furry man tunes his Ford truck in the driveway of a house he built with his bare hands. This is for that person.
The head distiller could walk out of their office to this balcony and overlook the whole fermentation process in a glance.