Here -
Where...safe walking looks like running..
Where...glitter ball glamour is boarded and gig postered..
Where...barber shop window reflects passing stooped daytime..
Where...sham smiles turn away and re-locate..
Where...singing electric wire hangs on whiskered waterway tree..
Where...happiness is hidden in fly tipped back lane..
Where...church bell hymns crack open egg shell mourning..
Where...crafted leather shoes sink into warm mud..
Where...sober chatter corrupts polluted chamber and cork lined corridor..
is the place language comes to die.
Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication
Documentary Fiction Photography
Steve Coel
Documentary Fiction Photography
Steve Coel
