The Carnation factory in west Oakland, once a thriving mill churning out conveyor belts of dairy delights, was abandoned by industry at least a decade ago. Now it stands a shell of that provenance in a district occluded by economic prosperity, feeding the local community with all it has left to give. Its idle copper circuitry little by little is pulled and recycled by scrappers for money, its walls shelter the houseless and bear an internationally revered legacy of graffiti, and its quiet, shadowed, fenced-in two acres serve as residence and breeding ground for fears of the paranormal in the neighborhood children.