It's found up along cobbled visions of forgotten towns in times disputed by all who lived them.
In places caught by Pentax and Olympus, children play on empty streets near to crumbled demolished homes.
Tall ships hanging over brick wall skulk in this broken vision. Tall ships made by small people whose dreams, daily smashed, mirror the horror of this passing time.
Close by, crisp tied visitors arrive and soon leave. As they always have and always will. Visitors making quick decisions over local pie and ignored cake.
Windowless empty youth painted buildings now scatter to wind and sudden downpour.
In large open working spaces; in tired dormant, feral communities; few people gather each morning for early shift. Labour here is too vague, mechanical and undisputed. Tiredness is instant and contagious. Jokes are few, clumsy and dulled by lack of echo.
Uniforms, worn in shame, are cheap and ill fitting as they signify nothing but cowardice and lack of respect.
