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I . . . I . . . I think I love you! :-)

i was just there about two months ago and the bowl was gone and not on the ground. From what i understand, the tower isn't even there anymore.

The final photo in this most remarkable series on Kings Park Hospital, and a priceless sociological documentary that ought one day to be published.
As I have travelled with Mott through the empty rooms and decaying corridors of the institution, my main thoughts have been to visualise it's past, and to try and picture the many & varied scenes that it must have born witness to. Night nurses bent over their desks beneath anglepoise lamps- a slumbering ward whose peace is broken by the pitiful cries of a disturbed patient waking from a nightmare, to whom the ward sister quickly rushes to administer the balm of whispered reassurance and a sedative- elderly war veterans in wheelchairs nodding in the warmth of the afternoon sun, as mellow rays and the smell of honeysuckle wafted through an open window and insects droned in the bushes- a young consultant neurologist agonising late into the night some time in the early '50s over the request for a lobotamy by a despairing psychotic, tapping his pen against his teeth and deciding to take it up with his superiors- maintenance men seated in the greasy subterranean light of the boiler rooms, reading magazines and scratching a cat's ears as a radio sings in the background- a frightened child in the pediatric wards of the early '80s reassured into giggles when she sees her old muppet pal Gonzo peeping at her on the wall, and her special nurse squeezes her hand to comfort her- the clunk of pool balls in the recreation rooms- a young schitzophrenic proudly showing her visiting parents the murals she has helped to paint- Summer nights when rainstorms lashed the venerable Ivy-covered walls of the Quad, and ships hooted out in Long Island Sound- the angry yells and curses of a violent patient confined to a secure excercise area- the click and shuffle of looms in the weaving therapy room- a young man soon to be discharged after recovering from a nervous breakdown, intensively working on scripts for the hospital Christmas show as his parting contribution- the scurry of activity in the corner of a ward when a patient is found to have overdosed, with screens drawn around the bed and nurses running for emergency equipment as the duty doctor frantically tries to save another life- morgue attendants hosing down autopsy tables with disinfectant- flowers from relatives & friends blooming in vases- canteen staff gossiping as they prepare to serve another lunch- delivery vehicles reversing up to service entrances on cloudy afternoons..... I could go on and on, but it is the echoes of these and countless other cameos in time that the old hospital holds within her walls. Now all is still, and quiet; the past ages hang like a dust sheet on the buildings, pregnant with memories, and the future is a distant spark. For now, let her slumber....

I think they are jets- it must have been a sort of very early jacuzzi system.
Whatever abusive wretches they had on the staff, the hospital planners and designers must have had progressive and idealistic visions for the sort of facilities they wished to offer.

into the depths...........

........l-|//////////////////______}>=-----

great photos i am wheelchair bound so this is the only way i can experience sites like this .This is how i travel all around the world.So for people like me keep up the good work.

because you're mine,I walk the..

Very nice shot,especially where the giant tomato self destructed in the middle of it all.

It Kinda Looks Like 'Spot The Dog'
Cute, Great Picture Motts!

I really wish someone back then was able to videotape the ride from beginning to end. My first time in I was 5 years old and I was freaked out beyond hope, lol.

More bars in that place than Kensington.

Thats' a real jail.

Also very ship-like

Ship-like