Just around the corner from where I live the 'historic' Northcote Pottery waits patiently for it's transformation into apartments.
I don't think I'm a particularly sentimental or nostalgic person. Change and development tend to turn me into a quiet observer rather than an activist. And it has to be said that the old pottery had it's quirks, like the constant smell of kerosene and the water pressure of a dry creek.
But I miss the colour of the light. Terracotta dust in the air and the sun streaming through the twenty or so doors in the west facing wall really did make it the most romantic of factories.