has arrived in the Garden of Eatin’
Amazing, interesting people have come and gone throughout the course of my life. When they’re around, the best of them open doors to adventuresome experiences I might otherwise not have access to. I make it my goal to walk thru as many of them as I can, so last summer when LomoJ asked about sneaking into an abandoned steel plant… how could I say no?
Getting there requires sneaking thru a well disguised hole in the fence, crossing the railroad tracks, and smuggling ourselves thru a lunar wasteland of flotsam discarded sometime in the 80’s. I thought it fun to see the birds fly in and out of nests they’d burrowed into the sides of these manmade cliffs.
The floor is rotten, rusting and flaking away. Holes have opened up in places, revealing a watery subterranean labyrinth below. We test our steps and stay in the light streaming in thru banks of broken windows.
Everything is frozen in time, left exactly the way it was when the gates to the complex were shuttered and chained closed decades ago.
We’ve come as tourists, but have no guidebook besides our imaginations. We talk in whispers, point and wonder why.
Others have been here before us. Some saw an apocalyptic playground and came as vandals. Others came on official business and brought warnings. Year after year they plastered them on the door below this bulb. We are not to cross this particular threshold.
We cross a savanna of golden grass and enter one of a cluster of buildings nearby. The walls of this place will not hold forever.
LomoJ photographs a pair of newly hatched bluebirds behind me. They chirp at us from the center of their newspaper nest. MoMMa bird is nowhere to be found.
The locker rooms are a nightmare tangle of chains and pully. Numbered baskets half hoisted in the air are filled with the personal effects of men who have long forgotten them.