Wheatland, Iowa. What a perfect name. What an ideal American place it must be, eh? I always like going to Iowa towns. They seem much less weary and sun-beaten than the average small Texas town, but also a bit more boring. There can be something sad and poetic in the echoes of bygone whee-ha.

Well, let’s open up the folder and see what I snipped.

Two brothers did the bricks and glass block. One had OCD.

The other did not.

That’s not an auspicious beginning.

Select the middle portion, option-drag up four pixels:

Paint your wood, for heaven’s sake. Show some respect.

Original purpose? Dry goods, groceries? Now it takes the broken and attempts a fix.

I wonder if the owner just locked up and left.

Wow:

That’s an incredibly abstract building, all of a sudden - but keeping within the town’s theme of “utter dullness.”

I take it all back

The usual Roman embassy makes a strong statement here. Wonder when it collapsed, or was absorbed.

For a building that old - on the left, I mean - you’d think there would be a curb cut.

The one on the right has been made over so many times it doesn’t recognize itself in the mirror anymore.

A fine old proud structure, and since it’s right by the train tracks I wondered if it was a railroad office. Or a hotel?

Hotel.

After the fall of the Empire, the locals carted away the building materials of the great buildings and monuments to use in other projects.

Today:

Let’s head back up main street, and - oh! Hello!