Some of my weirdest stories come from when The Russians take me under their wings. I don't know if it's bubbles in the cosmos or just these particular folk but their lives are much more interesting than my own, that's for sure.
Today was muddy, rainy, cold and damp. The forecast promised sun, but as dawn broke over the city all we saw was the beam of someone else's flashlight where flashlights weren't supposed to be. We hightailed it underground to wait it out. The very first tinges of pink started to creep and kiss the bellies of the fat gray clouds. It almost promised to be a nice one, but who could say? By that time I'd messed up my 5-minute sunrise exposure and was sniffling in the dust of the water treatment facility.
I don't know how they treated water back in the 19th century and honestly it doesn't really bother me. I have no great love for this facility, even though it's fairly unique as far as abandonments go. It reminded me of Old Fort Point, just with more ghosts, and curious piles of tree branches were centered beneath every manhole cover. Though the smell of human waste was present, no life was present this morning. If the sun shone clear and the day were brighter, perhaps many more wonderful opportunities would have presented themselves between the hundreds of arched pillars. I can think of one thing that I'd chase: godbeams.
All it was today was dust, sand, trash, and darkness. And Russians!
Not really worth a revisit, I'd think, unless I happened to be in that neck o' the woods again.
2 comments:
You actually made this place look interesting, something I failed to do during my trip. Nice work!
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