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More red fences, now stretched and distorted out of shape, formed a useless barrier, pushed and pulled by
the workmen working on the site. The wooden picket fence behind it was similarly frail and fragile; getting
inside would’ve been easy.
Impressed by the scale and size of the buildings as we trudged through the grass and mud, we were confident
that we’d found our photogenic star, a shining example of a corridor asylum. Checking back with the
security guard after our circuit, he was unable to help with the site’s owners, but suggested visiting on a
weekday.
We quickly made plans.
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