This glove captured the eerie and melancholy atmosphere of this place more than anything else that I saw inside this building. The factory has been shut down for the better part of twenty years, (long before I moved to this town), and I climbed up and down narrow metal stairs, past rows of still and silent rollers and cogs. There were rooms full of dusty, rusty equipment and the silence - the SILENCE - was oppressive. Scott and I talked quietly - almost reverently - as he walked me through the giant, abandoned building. Yet here was this glove, hanging there as though someone had left it there not half an hour ago to take a lunch break. What uncanny luck to witness such a moment in history and immortalize it here in this image. Even now, when I think back on that moment my heart feels heavy and there is a sadness that I can neither understand or define.

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