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.
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?
After the fall of the Empire, the locals carted away the building materials of the great buildings and monuments to use in other projects.
Let’s head back up main street, and - oh! Hello!