MicroFlashFiction - Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction: Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel. Set 2 - 23/4/24

Set 2

* Grey Water * Adult Hands * Machine Winnings * Wired Beauty

Grey Water - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...hollow buildings shadow painted movement..

Where...decaying plastic childhood lies perched on slopes of tall decaying tree..

Where...repaired jigsaw roads wait for seasonal pacing and frosty morning..

Where...starched wrinkled skin sticks to stretched bone..

Where...daily trauma functions alongside passing rumour..

is the place language comes to die.

Adult Hands - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...sponsored imagination drains away through rusting pipe..

Where...illegal plastic high releases urgent stammered step..

Where...solitary private glass is windowed in shoddy single drinking room..

Where...stolen adult hands are nailed..

Where...blow factory wall rags by-pass toughened water..

is the place language comes to die.

Machine Winnings - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...failure becomes a habit..

Where...values are challenged and always disputed..

Where..machine winnings replace job prospects..

Where..happiness is solitary, forgotten and distant..

Where...teenage anger lasts long into retirement..

is the place language comes to die.

Wired Beauty - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...drowned road happiness is traded for pennies..

Where...beauty is inked into loose skin..

Where...shop door dispute is hostel knuckled..

Where...salted air breathing is painful reminder of loss..

Where...wired thought becomes backroom industry..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction: Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel. Set 1 - 23/4/24

Set1

* Steel Mesh *Fingered Paper *Roped Water * Fuzzy Pictures #2

Steel Mesh - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...shaded front windows blank out screamed memory..

Where...watered gravel road hides handshake meeting..

Where...cheap endeavour is forced..

Where...emotion is mid-air and blank eyed...

Where...coat collar romance is early evening and morning drunk..

is the place language comes to die.

Fingered Paper - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...natural postered walkthrough is dog bagged and puddled..

Where...powder lines are littered across cheap vinyl floored food station..

Where...fingered papers lie park benched with scattered community smile..

Where...ideas exist in yesterdays closed library..

Where...running looks like walking..

is the place language comes to die.

Roped Water - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...hammered workplace shoulders scratch tattoo vein..

Where...elevated mirror views reach into roped water..

Where...rapid stone road footstep signals are passed among rivals..

Where...casual shop window seats remain chained to suspicion and small debt..

Where...old newspapers stay untouched..

is the place language comes to die.

Fuzzy Pictures #2

Here -

Where...the slow brickwork slivers of expectation collide with motored demolition..

Where...routine is never obvious..

Where...fuzzy pictures reveal short hard lives scratched on to broken dockside and burnt timber..

Where...homes are splashed across derelict tired hillside..

Where...debt plagues argument like two coins rubbed clear..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - Rock Pockets

Rock Pockets - Steve Coel

Here-

Where...small feet carry heavy living..

Where...polluted idle engines blow rust water into lipped gutter..

Where...~~loud~~ emergency words remain anonymous..

Where...stone roof collapse haunts drunken memory..

Where...rock pocket begging is sandwiched between road crossing and loose fingers..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - Paper Bag

Paper Bag - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...banned entry is monitored by bored looking glass eye..

Where...cracked machine street furniture empties rigid oil onto skated shoe..

Where...paper bag eating is tin roof sheltered..

Where...curious hands grip tightly bridged water passage way..

Where...alarm bells herd crowds into uniformed wallets of silence..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - Adult Hands

Adult Hands - Steve Coel

Here-

Where...sponsored imagination drains away through rusting pipe..

Where...illegal plastic high releases urgent stammered step..

Where...solitary private glass is windowed in shoddy single drinking room..

Where...stolen adult hands are nailed..

Where...blown factory wall rags by-pass toughened water..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - Plastic Violence

Plastic Violence - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...ready-made dreams are corner shop ~~boxed~~ shelved..

Where...small room gossip becomes concrete site layered shouting..

Where...alarm engined vehicles crowd grey side street audience..

Where...bagged violence is dumped into plastic binned anonymous alley..

Where...cardboard cups glue street furniture to sleeping mats..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - Feathered Water

Feathered Water - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...slow sorrow steps between abandoned dream..

Where...~~dead mans~~ plastic clothing hangs from ~~dead~~ ~~man~~ window dead map ~~advertising~~..

Where...walled begging is hidden behind locked shopping trolley..

Where...feathered water ~~paper~~ bags ~~youthful~~ walked memory..

Where...~~smoked security~~ lectern voices are ~~smoke~~ security silenced..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - 2024

Half Stolen Buildings

Steve Coel

Published Experimental Narratives

Jan - Mar 2024

Timed Silence

Machine Winnings

Plastic Roof

Sad Eyes -

Metal Carpet

Glassed Ale

Traded Memory

Late Crowds

Bandstand

Timed Silence

Melted Future

Grey Water

Tree Litter

Idle Heels

Melted Shoe

False Doors

Honest Footstep

Modern Memory

Sleeping Path

Metallic Stumble

Fingered Paper

Cheap Tablets

Local Trade

Slim Change

Waiting Shadows

Hidden Rumour

Wired Beauty

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Iron Shelter

Iron Shelter - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...music is day-time dead..

Where...beaten up strangled trees steal fenced air..

Where...pavement shy funeral cars are smokey..

Where...mapped walking is silenced by small group gossip..

Where...sleeping iron sided shelters are brick piled into bulldozed walls..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Celf Stryd - Lloegr

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Wired Beauty

Wired Beauty - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...drowned road happiness is traded for pennies..

Where...beauty is inked into loose skin..

Where...shop door dispute is hostel knuckled..

Where...salted air breathing is painful reminder of loss..

Where...wired thought becomes backroom industry..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Celf Stryd - Lloegr

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Hidden Rumour

Hidden Rumour - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...spirited cloth holds tightly hidden defence..

Where...painted step reveals rusted night-time dancing..

Where...burnt path walking becomes wall shy and forced..

Where...open doors disperse rumour of stolen memory..

Where...expensive remarks are fake..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Celf Stryd - Lloegr

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Waiting Shadows

Waiting Shadows - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...tacky metal emblems cling to half shredded sprayed walls of distant commerce..

Where...dead fruit is picked clean by unseen nightlife..

Where...mobile notes are glued to pavements damp with summer..

Where...singing electric wire hangs on whiskered waterway tree..

Where...glass shadows stretch into shoeless avenue..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Celf Stryd - Lloegr

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Slim Change

Slim Change - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...slim smiles are given at shop exits and short change is expected..

Where...aimless driving is deliberate..

Where...fly-tipped memory eats up roofless factory space..

Where...narrow lane romance flickers over roof ridged hedge..

Where...crowds gather to pass time and silence..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Local Trade

Local Trade - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...stubs of paper shape tomorrows nightmare..

Where...fussy overcoats and woolen carpet shape valley roadway..

Where...modern memory is glazed with empty cans of blood..

Where...fallen bricks slice postered railing..

Where...juiced radio plays out potent messages to scaffolded local trade..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Cheap Tables

Cheap Tables - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...cheap tables split abandoned doorways..

Where...cliff edge bramble holds litter to ransom..

Where...puzzled footstep is matched with clumsy frail voice..

Where...second hand clipped fashion rails spill strong alcohol and stained toxic mist..

Where...beauty is hooded..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Fingered Paper

Fingered Paper - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...natural postered walkthrough is dog bagged and puddled..

Where...powder lines are littered across cheap vinyl floored food station..

Where...fingered papers lie park benched with scattered community smile..

Where...ideas exist in yesterdays closed library..

Where...running looks like walking..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - Metallic Stumble

Metallic Stumble - Steve Coel

Here-

Where...straight talking is a cold, charmless metallic click..

Where...wind launched building demolition scratches neighbourhood itch..

Where...stickered light falls on damp nylon shoe..

Where...last nights takeaway guides corner walled stumble..

Where...bitter smoke sticks to dark glass passenger..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

MicroFlashFiction - Sleeping Path

Sleeping Path - Steve Coel

Here-

Where...boasting is frowned upon..

Where...youth stubble walk across butchered sleeping path..

Where...slow of foot shadow wooden shovel..

Where...hills consume history and memory is wiped out by nature..

Where...half gloved hands rap on steel plate and small window..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Modern Memory

Modern Memory - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...stubs of paper shape tomorrows nightmare..

Where...fussy overcoats and woolen carpet litter grassed up valley roadway..

Where...modern memory is glazed with empty cans of strong lager..

Where...fallen brick slices postered railing..

Where...bottom shelf goods are swallowed by small pockets..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Honest Footstep

Honest Footstep - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...weather growls at footsteps and distant noise is ancient and honest..

Where...rain drills fluent bitter nightmare into supple iron smile..

Where...broken machinery sits proudly inside dusty windowed derelict shelter..

Where...silent voices speak empty values to woolen walls..

Where...cold slab chipped rock fountain is smiling and love struck..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Shadow Nut Wood

Shadow Nut Wood - Steve Coel

It begins by the shallow path that slopes unevenly down hill away from the shadow nut wood. Here, all along the broken hill, towards the distant wet rock, corrugated cylindered tunnels built to hide, imprison and shelter straight back frightened animals, lie rusting.

The air remains thick with the embrace of their death and the mud, stamped flat by heated spot, is acidic with fallen leaf and crippled motor oil, which in turn, twists open the unyielding buckle of weed.

From The Mercy Path ( 2024 ), Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - False Doors

False Doors - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...shop doors embrace the bubble gum smell of illegal cheap drink..

Where...curled up steel yard hideaways become legend..

Where...broken promises are public..

Where...nylon jumpered youth blankly congregate..

Where...aimless driving is deliberate..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Melted Shoe

Melted Shoe - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...thick suited men drink bottled park bench liquid breakfast..

Where...melted slices of stairway rug fold into careless shoe..

Where...dead meat flags hang from rusty hook in damp empty rows..

Where...closed shops remain open..

Where...the big vision is narrow and short-lived..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Idle Heels

Idle Heels - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...bladed vape chatter tumbles into unlit corridor..

Where...fragmented sour heeled machinery lies idle..

Where...cracked glass memory leans into elbowed temper..

Where...crippled time shelters from hillside churched solitude..

Where...rusty thimble alcoholics drink cold cartons of charity coffee..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Tree Litter

Tree Litter - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...slip leaved footstep shovels misery along a siren alert high street..

Where...cold hands shake out the truth about childhood romance and early death..

Where...broken promises are guaranteed..

Where...hawthorn trees loiter among the erratic stones of ancient pathway..

Where...wired ridge hillside animals shadow tin roofed wooden shelter..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Grey Water

Grey Water - Steve Coel

Here-

Where...hollow buildings shadow painted monument..

Where...decaying plastic childhood lies perched on slopes of tall decaying tree..

Where...repaired jigsaw roads wait for seasonal pacing and frosty morning..

Where...starched wrinkled skin sticks to stretched bone..

Where...daily trauma functions alongside passing rumour..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Celf Stryd - Lloegr

An 11.59 Publication

MicroFlashFiction - Melted Future

Melted Future - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...old smiles are reflected in rust..

Where...crafted leather shoes sink in warm mud..

Where...happiness is hidden in fly tipped back lane..

Where...lost faces merge with elderly condemned brick..

Where...slippery eyes fix on glassy oil pavement..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Timed Silence

Timed Silence

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Bandstand

Bandstand

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Traded Memory

Traded Memory

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Late Crowds

Late Crowds - Steve Coel

Here-

Where...sweet burdens litter crowded bridge elevation..

Where...wired anger leans into rusted bicycle hillside..

Where...subtle fingers repeat last nights drunken movements..

Where...teenage defence is held tightly to deaf ear..

Where...failure becomes habit..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Traded Memory

Traded Memory - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...dull flowers pilfer hedgerow litter..

Where...skin is scissored..

Where...memory is traded..

Where...new work jackets have missing buttons and broken zips..

Where...angry shadows are nailed on to walled in wasteland..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

MicroFlashFiction - Glassed Ale

Glassed Ale - Steve Coel

Here-

Where...re-cycled gloves spill glassed ale on the corner seat of the damp pop-up..

Where...locked doors open to sharp knocking..

Where...debt plagues argument like two coins rubbed clear..

Where...coat collar romance is early morning and drunk..

Where...feelings twist bitter movement..

is the place language comes to die.

Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel

Metal Carpet

Here -

Where...knotted metal carpet rolls lean on concrete window salesroom..

Where...reflected sleep is caught shuffling across bridged river..

Where...drained smiles remain confused..

Where...doctored papers shield gridded nylon building..

Where...ordered talk is wooden..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Documentary Fiction Photography

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

From Half Stolen Buildings, An 11.59 Publication

Sad Eyes

Here -

Where...crowded thoughts are positioned above empty guide dog begging..

Where...plastic bag clumsiness shelters in fenced bus stop..

Where...empty glassed humour becomes bitter and sad-eyed..

Where...blistered wood window sills hold signed memories of yesterday's bargain..

Where...puddle damp trainers split through confused traffic..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Half Stolen Buildings - Steve Coel

Plastic Roof

Here -

Where...locked doors open to sharp knocking..

Where...clotted shoes clamber over torn stile, delayed stone wall and heathland water..

Where...fractured ganglines decide night-time movement..

Where...ribboned plastic roof top windows glisten on oiled doorstep..

Where...seagulls congregate to share daytime information..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Machine Winnings - Steve Coel

Here -

Where...failure becomes a habit..

Where...values are challenged and always disputed..

Where...machine winnings replace job prospects..

Where...happiness is solitary, forgotten and distant..

Where...teenage anger lasts long into retirement..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Timed Silence - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Timed Silence

Here-

Where...silence is timed..

Where...stern booted smiles are frequent..

Where...folded arm argument frames evening entertainment..

Where...car lights ~~warn~~ halt hooded debt collection..

Where...hi-rise threats are sprayed on dumpster and metal security door..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Sleeping Path - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Here -

Where...youth stubble walk across butchered sleeping path..

Where...hills consume history and memory is wiped out by nature..

Where...half gloved hands rap on steel plate and small window..

Where...slow of foot shadow wooden shovel..

Where...boasting is frowned upon..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Small Pockets - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Here -

Where...antique van apathy clings to melted future..

Where...layered sounds of gated dog and broken motor serenade gloomy high street..

Where...teenage anger lasts long into retirement..

Where...harmony is seen between broken shop trolley, mid-summer puffa jacket and cannabis vape..

Where...bottom shelf goods are swallowed by small pockets..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Rust on Cloth ( 2023 ) - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Rust on Cloth

( 2023 )

The Right Shadow

Grey, when you's staying at Clink Hotel. Black, when you returns home to no fixed address. Each casts the right shadow, makes you invisible. Makes you useful.

Rust on Cloth

You walks along striding lengths of vacant brick where even today you never sees new cars. And sliding pass pub windows that shield sun and rain and bad dreams you gets the full yeasty blast of damp cloth and old men sharing lies over warm beer and brown fingers.

Spare Change for Twisted Feet

People you wants, needs, is every time busy. Is why you's visiting Clink Hotel. Is truth.

Cracked Smile

Like two coins rubbed clear your cracked smile is a daily reminder of the last fight 30 years ago.

No Paths...

Here, where young people never return and there are no paths and old people stop to watch lost cars, is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

* A small but well attended mid-week spoken word event in Birmingham. Rust on Cloth came up in conversations. A reminder of previous Birmingham city centre MicroFlashFiction experiments and images from Tin Collector ( An 11.59 Publication) and Born in the Workhouse ( An 11.59 Publication )

Cardiff ( 2023 ) - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Cardiff ( 2023 )

Etched into time

etched into St Augustine's headland stone

the daily ritual of dockland kerb

being painted by elderly welders.

Dead Air into Warm Harp

Since I bust my legs down The Works I's been spending my mornings blowing dead air into warm harp by Central Library. Bust me heart too truth be told. Lost everything now I has. Still; once I's got enough coin I go gets a mild and Clark's pie in The Vulcan and, more often than not, I ends up chatting to the old girls warming themselves up before they goes to work under the bridge by The Glastonbury. Clink Hotel cross the road tends to get noisy in the afternoon so I wanders back into town for a bit of a stretch and goes and cadges a cup of tea from Asteys before I heads back down Bute to the Sally for warm meal and early bunk. Really I doesn't have time to feel sad. Not me. Trick I finds is to forget past and stick to what I knows. Needs change of shoes mind. Probably find some come Sunday side of hostel door.

MicroFlashFiction

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Glum Dance - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Here -

Where...slim concrete staircases funnel nervous jealous glances..

Where...starched wrinkled skin sticks to stretched bone..

Where...young people die old..

Where...unopened door fades into peeling brick and small bottled yard..

Where...glum dance patters aggressively on fractured acre..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Tin Badge - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Here -

Where...barber shop windows reflect passing stooped daytime..

Where...cheap toys are solitary on garden wall and stolen trolley..

Where...lost faces merge with elderly condemned brick..

Where...suspicious tin badge statements are worn like dismissed broken attitude..

Where...wild animals pass through broken door work place..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

promise is a promise - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

promise is a promise

today doorway long corridor

place used to be arcade not now

shops are long gone

roof caved in steel mesh windows

ripped out by scrappies

walls decorated courtesy

of local youth

no charge nice touch that

so you could say

it's quiet around this way

now there's nothing left to nick

council says places like this

is going to be developed we'll see

meantime it's where I comes

to spend my days

to finish jobs

I been doing during the night

I'll have finished in about

six months anyways

do what the fuck they wants then

all of them

and if they ever finds out

what I been hiding round here

won't be any comeback

promise is a promise

* Originally published: Tin Collector, 2015. An 11.59 Publication

Roped Water - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Here -

Where...hammered workplace shoulders scratch tattoo vein..

Where...elevated mirror views reach into roped water..

Where...rapid stone road footstep signals are passed among rivals..

Where...casual shop window seats remain chained to suspicion and small debt..

Where...old newspapers stay untouched..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Cupped Smoke - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Here -

Where...recycled gloves spill glassed ale in corner seat of damp pop-up..

Where...grey cigarette stained trackies stand broken in cement bank shelter..

Where...midnight football is supported by passing runaways heading to early morning meal..

Where...cupped smoke and industrial strength poison cans work full-time to keep the cold out..

Where...sharp light slices into puddled indoor short-cut..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

New MicroFlashFiction from An 11.59 Publication

Recent MicroFlashFiction Stories

from

An 11.59 Publication

[ Enquiries - Steve Coel: Ingot Studios, Birmingham ]

***

Chewed up...Walled in Wasteland...Broken Light...Secret Keys...Push Chair...Welded Arm...Small Fish...Glass Light...Evenings Shadow...Plastic Shoes...Lost String...Tacky Metal...Dull Flowers...Sleeping Path...Dark Glass...Oiled Doorstep...Fuzzy Pictures...Passing Rumours...Rings on her fingers...Smells of Time...Local Trade...Small Pockets...Whistled Anger...Empty Chair...Half Stolen Buildings...Up at the Knock...The Right Shadow...Write with your Ears...Thin Whistle at Dawn...Prison Ship...Heathland Water...Early Shift...Empty Corners...Dead Trees...Small Country...Bitter Fingers...A Tram - to Nowhere...Robert Johnson: 1911 - 1938...Shopping Trolley...Heavy Locks...Sarn Elen...Arglwyddes y Lon...Solo Rooms...Fuzzy Pictures #2...Deaf Ears: Part 1 - 4...Fallen Brick...Today Not Tomorrow...Steel Mesh.

Illustrations / Images: Documentary Fiction Photography - An 11.59 Publication

Steel Mesh - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Here -

Where...shaded front windows blank out screamed memory..

Where...watered gravel road hides handshake meeting..

Where...cheap endeavour is forced..

Where...emotion is mid-air and blank eyed..

Where...coat collar romance is early evening and drunk..

is the place language comes to die.

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication