Refinery

I had great hopes for my visit to this strange industrial cluster. It's an odd expanse of land sprung up right in the midst of a vast strech of suburbia. The swath of smoking steeples is almost refreshing in the sense that it flies in the face of the sprawl. There are massive oil tanks, pipes of every size, and power lines for miles. It's breathtaking but not always in a good way. Except on well-traveled paths, there is an inch of coal dust underfoot and the smell of sulfur is thick. You get the idea, it's just my kind of establishment!

It was dusk when I arrived, the ideal time for photos. However, I quickly encountered a problem. The whole place was surrounded by chainlink, barbed-wire fences. The "no trespassing" signs were colorful, freqent, and laden with phrases like "penal code" and "trespassers are subject to...". Normally I would disregard signs like these, writing them off as simple formalities. This time, however, my instict said to stay back. So I did. It was the right choice, I am sure, but I passed up a chance at some radical pictures. For now, these will have to do: