These are unhealthy structures, and so generally relegated to the outskirts of town. You find them near railroad tracks, enclosed by security fences festooned with warnings, the air layered with an unwholesome chemical miasma. Even the light sometimes seems oily and carcinogenic.

And yet—and yet they are strangely lovely. Even the old facilities retain some hint of allure in their decrepitude, like an aging trollop whose hand is too unsteady to apply her make-up.