Whenever I think I might run out of towns for this feature, I go to Texas.

This is one of the strangest towns I've come across. I had to go back to see if all these shots were from the same place.

It's Christmas! Or it was. In any case, it will be.

Why do they have to build sets for those "end of the world" movies, where civilization has collapsed and everyone's gone? Why, when there's this?

No set designer would come up with a building like this. Buildings like this have to happen. By the way, I'm pretty sure it was a gas station; tell-tale island on the right.

Through those big windows men once sat and watched the world go by.

They ran out of bricks, or workers, or a reason to keep going?

No; I suspect there was a building next door that burned or fell down, creating an empty lot. The sidewalk does seem ultra-wide.

As I say once a week: nothing will ever happen here again:

Yes, that's visible in the gas-station shot above. What's notable is the lack fo graffiti. I mean, even Chernobyl has graffiti.

Let's go downtown to the throbbing heart of the business district:

It's like a block in SimCity when things are just starting to fill in. Or empty out.

Notice the lack of something?

Cars?

People?

That nice lamp and the colorful banner is the most heart-rending picture yet. They're still trying.

The ol' "let's plant trees. That will bring back downtown" idea. It might work if the tree doesn't look like it's screaming in bloody pain in December.

A newspaper building should be wearing an eyeshade, even if it's the Dreaded Shingled Overhang.

The presses haven't been running for a while.

Have a seat.

In the foreground, a vehicle from the future, doing some archeological work, thanks to this site, which they discovered in 2049 in the Library of Congress. You're welcome, guys!

Some signs of life:

And determination, as well. What, he's quoting the Texas Constitution? One of those nuts.

Construction cones? New sidewalks,it seems.

It's a start. Literally: this is just half of it. More next week.