More re-post of Flickr-link-eaten original submission. DO NOT READ THIS. I'm serious.
Mmh, abandoned pig slaughterhouse. What phrase could make the mouth water more than this?
And the more burning question, in a place obviously infused with the lost spirits of thousands of dead pigs, does phantom pig poo smell?
Let's take advantage of this beautiful, freezing, sunny day to find out, shall we?
I don't know much about this location, beyond that it's indubitably been empty for many, many years - while there are remnants of some interesting industrial architectural details in places, it's been given a thorough going over by the paintballers and graffitos.
And what graffiti it is - some of the artwork is extensive and marvelous, covering almost every bit of wall I could see, from the old pig holding pens, the manager's house, and the administration buildings, to all floors of the factory hall itself. It's a regular gallery in some of the side buildings, with upturned buckets as viewing seats. Or, for a place to sit down when staggering drunk - although there was surprisingly few detritus of raging parties. For these guys, art is SRS BZNS.
I didn't check the roof, as the jerry-rigged beams bridging the collapsed bit of staircase looked like a rotten, tetanus-ridden disaster ready to happen and my exploring partner had serendipitously decided to stay in his warm bed this morning, but from what I could see peeking up through the stairwell, it was pretty much more of the same.
That says "welcome" in French.
The abominable postman.
The sun is a lie. My fingers were freezing.
Yoshi's got into the catnip again.
The pig holding pens were about 200m long
When was the last time you watched "Snatch"?
OM NOM NOM.
The fantasy castle is on the other side of the factory hall.
Second floor, sporting goods, ladies' lingerie, pig bits...
Paintball heaven.
Ohai thar.
Totally.
The garage.
Wide-open apertures make anything look artsy, kids, even screw holdy compartment things.
FSM beware me from ever finding out the connection between these and my bacon.
The factory hall - the white corrugated iron roof, when mixed with a bit of wind, is just the thing you need to NOT make you think that a bunch of Gendarmes have just slammed their car doors shut outside.
More at kosmograd dot net.
Mmh, abandoned pig slaughterhouse. What phrase could make the mouth water more than this?
And the more burning question, in a place obviously infused with the lost spirits of thousands of dead pigs, does phantom pig poo smell?
Let's take advantage of this beautiful, freezing, sunny day to find out, shall we?
I don't know much about this location, beyond that it's indubitably been empty for many, many years - while there are remnants of some interesting industrial architectural details in places, it's been given a thorough going over by the paintballers and graffitos.
And what graffiti it is - some of the artwork is extensive and marvelous, covering almost every bit of wall I could see, from the old pig holding pens, the manager's house, and the administration buildings, to all floors of the factory hall itself. It's a regular gallery in some of the side buildings, with upturned buckets as viewing seats. Or, for a place to sit down when staggering drunk - although there was surprisingly few detritus of raging parties. For these guys, art is SRS BZNS.
I didn't check the roof, as the jerry-rigged beams bridging the collapsed bit of staircase looked like a rotten, tetanus-ridden disaster ready to happen and my exploring partner had serendipitously decided to stay in his warm bed this morning, but from what I could see peeking up through the stairwell, it was pretty much more of the same.
That says "welcome" in French.
The abominable postman.
The sun is a lie. My fingers were freezing.
Yoshi's got into the catnip again.
The pig holding pens were about 200m long
When was the last time you watched "Snatch"?
OM NOM NOM.
The fantasy castle is on the other side of the factory hall.
Second floor, sporting goods, ladies' lingerie, pig bits...
Paintball heaven.
Ohai thar.
Totally.
The garage.
Wide-open apertures make anything look artsy, kids, even screw holdy compartment things.
FSM beware me from ever finding out the connection between these and my bacon.
The factory hall - the white corrugated iron roof, when mixed with a bit of wind, is just the thing you need to NOT make you think that a bunch of Gendarmes have just slammed their car doors shut outside.
More at kosmograd dot net.
