On the Road to Syracuse – The Factory’s Last Days

August 7, 2025

After leaving the church, we kept heading toward Syracuse, but somewhere between cities, a familiar silhouette rose on the horizon — an old factory I hadn’t seen since 2015.
I remembered its tall brick walls and endless rows of windows, but even from the road, I could tell time had been merciless. Parts of the complex were already gone, replaced by empty gravel lots and piles of twisted steel.

It was the kind of day where the sun feels heavy — 44°C in full force — and the heat radiated off the asphalt as we pulled over. The closer we got, the clearer it was: this place was living its final chapter.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of rust. Entire sections of flooring sagged or had collapsed, leaving yawning gaps between the massive concrete columns.
The once-bustling production floor was now a field of warped boards, scattered debris, and old tires that seemed frozen mid-roll decades ago.

The power plant was my favorite part back in 2015, and it still is — though now it’s transformed into something almost unrecognizable. The control panels, once clean and precise, are now a canvas of graffiti, their needles forever stuck in place. Insulation hangs like ghostly drapes from rusted pipes, and every step echoes through a hollow space that once hummed with machines. The deeper you walk, the more you feel that constant invisible danger — asbestos lingering in the air — a reminder that this beauty comes with a price.

Outside, nature is winning. Trees push through cracked pavement, vines wrap around railings, and an old snow plow truck sits abandoned, half-swallowed by greenery.
There’s a strange poetry in it — the slow collision of human industry and the unstoppable will of the natural world.

Standing there, it felt less like exploring a ruin and more like paying respects. This factory is on borrowed time, and the next time I pass through this stretch of road, it might be nothing more than an empty lot.