At the edge of the site where a linoleum factory once stood, one building remains: the old power plant. The rest of the factory was demolished years ago, and this building too is in poor condition. Part of the roof has collapsed, and debris is scattered everywhere. Yet it exudes a certain calm as if it has come to terms with its fate.

Inside, it is quiet. The smell of used oil still lingers in the air, mixed with the metallic scent of rust. The control panels are covered with a thin layer of dust, their purpose long forgotten. Everything seems frozen in time, as if the world has paused for a moment.