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Nearly 100 workers at the world’s busiest airport are volunteering their time to pick up trash that could be dangerous when planes land and take off.

On Wednesday, the fifth runway at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport was closed for about 30 minutes so employees could look for debris. According to the airport website, the fifth runway opened in 2006 and averages more than 100,000 landings and takeoffs per year.

Among the junk collected: pebbles, washers, ball bearings and small bolts. Damage from such debris is estimated to cost the aerospace industry $4 billion a year. Hartsfield-Jackson performs daily inspections on all its runways.

The airport serves more than 94 million passengers annually with nonstop service to more than 150 U.S. destinations and nearly 70 international destinations in more than 45 countries.

Here is a collection of photos showing volunteers cleaning the runway.

Jump over to the AP’s blog to see more images.

Bebnine is one of many small towns in northern Lebanon that have seen an influx of Syrian refugees in recent months. Many of the new residents are children, whose education has been disrupted. A lot of them must work to support their families instead of studying to lay the foundations for a bright future. This set of photographs by Andrew McConnell, documents one group of boys who risk their health by working for a charcoal seller in Bebnine. Aged between 11 and 15 years old, they earn the equivalent of less than 70 US cents an hour filling, weighing and carrying sacks of charcoal. It’s hard work and after an average eight-hour day they are covered in charcoal dust. Throughout the region, an estimated one in ten Syrian refugee children is engaged in child labour.

Photos: Andrew McConnell/UNHCR

Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Circular Knitting Machines, Fall River Knitting Mills, Fall River, Massachusetts.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
White yarn bobbins on a beaming creel, Langhorne Carpet Company, Penndel, Pennsylvania.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Color matching dye lab, where dyes are formulated to match customer samples, G. J. Littlewood & Sons, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Dyed treated wool before carding, S & D Spinning Mill, Millbury, Massachusetts.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
A spool of finished roving coming off the carder, Woolrich Woolen Mill, Woolrich, Pennsylvania.
Fruits of the Loom
In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 
Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.
Read more at The New York Times Magazine.
Photos: Christopher Payne
Sewing machines, New England Shirt Company, Fall River, Massachusetts.

Fruits of the Loom

In 1776, America didn’t have a single textile mill. There were no spinning mules, no water-powered looms. There were only rumors of what such things might look like and a few nonfunctioning models built from those rumors. Nearly every American woman, except the wealthiest, knew how to spin her own yarn and weave her own cloth, even as across the Atlantic women were moving out of the home and into millwork as England — bent on protecting its export market by safeguarding its trade secrets — industrialized the manufacturing of textiles. 

Christopher Payne has spent much of the past few years photographing more than 20 of the mills that make up what’s left of America’s textile industry. Three appeared to have closed midproduction, looking like soft, bright Pompeiis, the colorful yarns still piled on the factories’ floors after the doors were permanently closed; others continue to function, often with machinery and techniques valued precisely because they are decades or even centuries old. Many of the machines in the mills Payne has documented are embossed with the names of defunct machinery companies not far from where he grew up near Boston.

Read more at The New York Times Magazine.

Photos: Christopher Payne

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A young woman, held after she was wounded during clashes between riot police and protestors after the funeral of Berkin Elvan in Istanbul on March 12, 2014. Riot police fired tear gas and water cannons at protestors in the capital, while in Istanbul, crowds shouting anti-government slogans lit a huge fire as they made their way to a cemetery for Elvan’s burial. A 15-year-old boy who died from injuries suffered during last year’s anti-government protests, Elvan’s story became a symbol for many Turks of the heavy-handed police tactics against mass anti-government demonstrators in June, a major challenge to Erdogan’s 11-year-rule.
Photo: Bulent Kilic/AFP

A young woman, held after she was wounded during clashes between riot police and protestors after the funeral of Berkin Elvan in Istanbul on March 12, 2014. Riot police fired tear gas and water cannons at protestors in the capital, while in Istanbul, crowds shouting anti-government slogans lit a huge fire as they made their way to a cemetery for Elvan’s burial. A 15-year-old boy who died from injuries suffered during last year’s anti-government protests, Elvan’s story became a symbol for many Turks of the heavy-handed police tactics against mass anti-government demonstrators in June, a major challenge to Erdogan’s 11-year-rule.

Photo: Bulent Kilic/AFP

An ultra-Orthodox Jewish girl wearing a costume, sits in a cage, marking the Purim festival in Bnei Brak, near Tel Aviv, Israel, Sunday, March 16, 2014. The Jewish holiday of Purim commemorates the Jews’ salvation from genocide in ancient Persia, as recounted in the Book of Esther which is read in synagogues. Other customs include sending food parcels and giving charity, dressing up in masks and costumes, eating a festive meal and public celebration.
Photo: Ariel Schalit/AP

An ultra-Orthodox Jewish girl wearing a costume, sits in a cage, marking the Purim festival in Bnei Brak, near Tel Aviv, Israel, Sunday, March 16, 2014. The Jewish holiday of Purim commemorates the Jews’ salvation from genocide in ancient Persia, as recounted in the Book of Esther which is read in synagogues. Other customs include sending food parcels and giving charity, dressing up in masks and costumes, eating a festive meal and public celebration.

Photo: Ariel Schalit/AP

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