Melo cup factory

Once a pulse of industrial life in Montréal, the Melo Factory thrived on the steady rhythm of printing presses, conveyor belts, and the quiet choreography of workers shaping millions of disposable cups for restaurants and cafeterias across the region. Walking through its abandoned corridors before demolition felt like stepping into a shift that had simply been paused; dust covered the silent machinery, conveyor lines still held a few forgotten cups, and office drawers overflowed with invoices, sketches, and product designs that once guided the factory’s daily grind. In the break room, yellowed newspapers, half-empty jars, and an old typewriter offered small, intimate clues about the people who filled this place with laughter, routine, and exhaustion. Deeper inside, the air grew heavier, marked by peeling paint, torn furniture, and storage shelves lined with orphaned containers and chemical remnants. The smell of ink and damp paper clung stubbornly to the air, refusing to let time erase it completely. Now demolished, the Melo Factory has vanished from the landscape, leaving behind only photographs, memories, and the quiet ache of a chapter of Montréal’s industrial history wiped clean.