This is a story about a time when men were real men, women were real women, and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri. And the industrial might of Northern Europe knocked together gargantuan steel wonders that were the envy of those people around the globe who weren't still banging stick against rocks and eating each other.
And then, somewhere along the line, a lot of goose stepping and shooting and shouting about Soviets and rebuilding later, it all went pear-shaped, and people started walking away from the gigantic temples to progress that they'd built, leaving them to rust all over the countryside like so many...err...gigantic...rusting metaphor failures.
This one's a goody, a fair-sized coke fired power plant - I'm sure some of you are familiar with it, but thankfully you've been discreet about its location, as the only trespassers thus far appear to have been a bunch of fairly respectful visitors who braved the evil pants-shredding fence around it, the angry guards with dobermans, the poison-smeared barbed wire, and the alligator moat and machine gun autoturrets.
OK, I'm lying about everything but the fence, but I still need new trousers.
There's a museum in the complex, a huge hall full of the wonders of electrification, most of its displays miraculously still in place, seen by nothing but the pigeons and a few geeks with cameras. But while this is pretty cool, the thing that really still gets me is the vast steel canyons inside the abandoned main halls that many of our esteemed fellow explorers are sometimes weirdly blasé about.
It's fucking fantastic, tap-tapping around in this vast, echoing cathedral of decay, monkeying around ALL THE THINGS. I'm pretty proud of these, as the light was awful and I still think I managed to salvage a few shots. Have a look, hope you like.
The rest, as usual, at kosmograd dot net.
And then, somewhere along the line, a lot of goose stepping and shooting and shouting about Soviets and rebuilding later, it all went pear-shaped, and people started walking away from the gigantic temples to progress that they'd built, leaving them to rust all over the countryside like so many...err...gigantic...rusting metaphor failures.
This one's a goody, a fair-sized coke fired power plant - I'm sure some of you are familiar with it, but thankfully you've been discreet about its location, as the only trespassers thus far appear to have been a bunch of fairly respectful visitors who braved the evil pants-shredding fence around it, the angry guards with dobermans, the poison-smeared barbed wire, and the alligator moat and machine gun autoturrets.
OK, I'm lying about everything but the fence, but I still need new trousers.
There's a museum in the complex, a huge hall full of the wonders of electrification, most of its displays miraculously still in place, seen by nothing but the pigeons and a few geeks with cameras. But while this is pretty cool, the thing that really still gets me is the vast steel canyons inside the abandoned main halls that many of our esteemed fellow explorers are sometimes weirdly blasé about.
It's fucking fantastic, tap-tapping around in this vast, echoing cathedral of decay, monkeying around ALL THE THINGS. I'm pretty proud of these, as the light was awful and I still think I managed to salvage a few shots. Have a look, hope you like.
The rest, as usual, at kosmograd dot net.
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