Imagine the voice of an entitled White suburban mother. She’s now talking about oral hygiene in the “urban” (Black) schools.
Part of a furnace control panel.
The sluice room was surrounded in fine grating. The company would want to finely control when the doors would be opened so the gold could be removed under supervision. No yellow bonus for the working man…
More than half a century of plans rot in the shadows, seemingly useless.
Clothing and a guest bed left behind.
Island Station, in the middle of the power house, in the middle of a thunder storm. Flapping pipe covers and sheets of ran penetrating one massive arched window and blasting through the other, as winds power through the building from the Mississippi. The sound of the thunder made every length of steel squeak under the pressure.
Looking at the casting floor from the roof. In the distance are the copulas where molten metal was poured.
Far above the areas that were heavily scrapped, I found some old bottles to collect samples of the sour mash whiskey as it made its was from the distillation room to barrel filling.
Generations of Two Harbors teens smoked their first weed in this abandoned building, in my estimation. Comment if I’m right!