In this old factory hall, the machines stand like silent sentinels, left behind after the last worker left. Where once the roar of steel and steam filled, now there is only the soft whistle of the wind blowing through broken windows. The cables, wheels and rusty steel seem almost to be waiting for a sign to come back to life. But time has won out here: it has become a monument of labour, power and oblivion. Yet it exudes a strange dignity, as if the building is proud of the work it once carried day in and day out.