The town down the road was much larger than the village I grew up in. It was also far more impoverished. Beginning in the 1980s, it started a downward slide with accelerating de-industrialization (they lost their chocolate factory) and rising crime (the police abandoned it and the town had to hire a group associated with the local crime syndicate to take over). With everyone getting increasingly poor and unhealthy, it also began losing its health care facilities. One of these, a rather old and decrepit building, was located along the main drag into town. It had been abandoned and was being progressively gutted by all and sundry. Driving past one day with a sculptor I was apprenticing for, we pulled over and threw the remains of an optometrist's office into his truck. This included motley antiquated equipment, substantial leather chairs, hospital gurneys etc. We then re-located this to a small plot of land. Months later, I re-located it to a randomly selected clearing in the woods about four kilometres outside of my village. It was set up in precisely the manner I guessed it would have taken in the doctor's office, eye chart strapped to a pine tree, and left. I can only assume it is still there but I can't recall exactly where it is. (2000)