In a regulation daytime armour that's still cracking with the coarse whispers of yesterday's broken promise, young women push vape shadowed baby carriers past boarded up shop windows. Their 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 plastic shoes will slap into one off needles that litter paper gutters and where, even on dry days, the pavement is damp.
Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication
