
While wandering Flynn Avenue, I walked into a truck yard with a few luscious industrial structures in various states of decay. This is the kind of stuff that makes me beam with delight upon discovery, worn colors and rough textures in areas that typically display bright “No Tresspassing” signs with chain-link fences and razorwire. More often than not, someone has already found a way in and I merely follow the tracks of those before me, camera in tow.