The only good shot I have of the top of Battery A, in the upper left. Though it seemed to have been disused before its neighbor it had a lot less growth on it.
I was surprised to see the roof was in such great condition. You can tell by the making on the wood that this wall is covered by a snow bank for most of the year.
Delmar #4 is like two elevators in one, in capacity and design.
Noontime light, long criticized for the boring shadows it grants photographers, comes into its own sometimes.
When I looked out of the old mill, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was holding it all up.
The curtain closes officially when the walls crack under the weight of winter snow.
The bathtub fell into the basement, ala The Miller’s Tale. That’s right. Chaucer.
A circular common room in one of the original parts of the hospital. When the asylum was especially crowded, this would be filled with patient beds, too. It’s very strange that this floor was not tiled like the other common rooms. It makes me wonder if especially dangerous patients were kept in this ward; those who could not be trusted to not extract and sharpen the ceramic tiles. Portra 160.
From the street, it’s clear that almost every window and door had boards over it, but not every building had a roof. Silly priorities.