Here -
Where...steep dark pictures dent curved sky-line..
Where...dead fruit is picked clean by unseen nightlife..
Where...leather shoes crack salted grit iron pavement..
Where...early day widows gather to taunt community editors..
Where...heavy bronze wire divides night time misery along broken river front..
Where...cheap tables split abandoned doorways..
Where...warehouse beams trap steel smile and welded arm..
Where...blossom heavy rubble lounges outside fenced in destruction..
Where...fallen brick slices postered railing..
Where...waste pipe lined side streets issue warning to hooded sleepless vagrant..
Where...top floor swearing is frequent..
is the place language comes to die.
Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication
Documentary Fiction Photography
Steve Coel
