Fort Street Detroit. Isn't it nice to take a break from small town decay to refresh your palate with big city decay? Although "refresh" isn't the right word, unless you regard a warm glass of rusty water as "refreshing." I don't know. You might.

Not moving a lot of washing machines these days. it seems:

Typical early 20th century commercial structure, with a 1950s remodel job. Painted sign probably comes from a later era. They couldn't match the panels on the blue side; wonder why.

Plants sprouting out of the roof.

Let us return to the days of yore:

2009.

Sometimes a man just needs to forge his composites, and needs a plce to go:

The door suggests they catered to a trade that was hunched and stooped from years of dealing with unforged composites.

Google's Street View allows you to go back in time, as noted. Today:

Yes, there's a bigger entrance; there has to be. No terminal would have such a miserable little scurry-hole. But I think it was a garage. An earlier view:

Looks better when the light bathes the bricks. The sidewalk looks well-maintained.

Nothing will ever happen here again:

The raw-hamburger look in the middle suggests they ripped off a lot of the old decorations to put on a new facade, or it's just some sort of cement. The building on the right has that hideous sixties pre-fab sheets of faux rocks. It's a mess, but once these were stores that sold goods and services that people wanted. That's over.

Five years ago:

Five years ago they probably wondered how it could get worse. Well, it did.

You can't even guess what this was:

One possible explanation: it was covered for a century by volcanic ash, and archeologists are making great progress digging it out:

A tidy building, modest, with apartments or offices upstairs and a bustling store with bright big windows below. But there's nothing left to do here anymore.

"Human Services."

Nothing left to loot.

What did the gate lead to? These were often just ornamental, so it's odd that it's boarded up if there's nothing on the other side.

A rest home for thin people, perhaps. Very thin people.

This one might still be open, but the graffiti suggests it's not.

Its 2009 Facebook page has one entry: Friday Night BLACK OUT JUICE $2

The craptacular pseudo-Mansard roof saved the upper floor details from paint or destruction:

Compared to what it looked like when it was first built, well, you shouldn't. Compare, I mean.

This thing is enormous:

When you look in the wayback panel, you can see that space has been available for a very long time. It's a huge structure, and I wonder what it was. Surely that was a clock up there.

At least there are some signs of life, right? Clean and well-maintained:

Alas: that was 2009.

Finally: deposits currently not accepted.

I'd love to get inside. You suspect they closed the bank and walked away, and there are some gems within - a carving, a moldy mural. Perhaps just a lamp from 1963; that would be enough.