Industry was supposed to be temporary.
A machine built for a purpose long forgotten, still standing in the afternoon light like a monument to someone's certainty.
I have always liked places like this.
Factories, docks, rail yards, warehouses.
Not because they are beautiful.
Because they remind me that entire worlds can disappear while the walls remain.
Someone once knew exactly what this did.
Someone worried about deadlines, maintenance, production targets, budgets.
Now it sits here, rusting into abstraction.
A giant orange question mark left behind by history.
(Photo: d.)









