Seemingly abandoned hotels filled with human and animal lodgers. Warehouses turned into chopshops, skateparks, shooting galleries, homeless shelters. Burned buildings with the stench of char and death like being inside the physical embodiment of an Edgar Allen Poe story. Cavernous factories rotting with quiet dignity, conveyor belts motionless, giant furnaces cold forever, a single rusty steel-toed shoe decaying on a pile of coal reminds me of how my grandfather worked for his entire life and died with his guts rotted out by cigarettes and asbestos. Don't want any of that… Think I'll go climb the smokestack. - K.M. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|