Solo Rooms - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...plastic fairground jewelry lies chewed up..
Where...kerbstone wheels dawdle in tune with open door security..
Where...words spoken in jest between strangers are echoes of threat to local trade..
Where...shuttered motor industry is impatient and bolted into the fabric of labour..
Where...failure becomes habit..
is the place language comes to die.
Deaf Ear (Part 1) - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...loyalty is sought and funded through dark glass..
Where...anger is buttery..
Where...doorstep begging is hasty and youthful..
Where...brave words are thrown away with cheap lager and soapy gritted water..
Where...curled up broken yard hideaways become legend..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Celf Stryd - Lloegr
