Half Stolen Buildings

In her regulation daytime armour that still cracks with the coarse whisper of yesterdays broken promise, the young girl pushes her vape shadowed baby carrier past boarded up pub windows. Her world is the local high street, where each day a bitter grey tide shambles downhill towards abandoned blue churches and disappearing city light. And it is here her plastic shoes will slap into one off needles that litter paper gutters and where, even on dry days, the pavement is damp.