Here -
Where...loyalty is sought and funded through dark glass..
Where...anger is buttery..
Where...door step begging is hasty and youthful..
Where...brave words are thrown away with cheap lager and gritted soapy grey water..
Where...curled up broken yard hideaways become legend..
Where...layered sounds of gated dog and broken motor serenade gloomy high street..
Where...cheap toys are solitary on pavement post and stolen trolley..
is the place language comes to die.
Documentary Fiction Photography
Steve Coel
