Leaving Leicester through the arse-end this evening, the Victorian factories stood beside the pre-fab and 21st century glass and steel. There was this yard with loads of yellow skips piled high. Old cranes lay in gravel yards, dying. Graffitied walls bordered it all. Made me think, "how many men had it taken to make this landscape?" "How many wives had cooked dinners that lay cold on kitchen tables whilst their men worked in the sod and shit and thick black rain to create this?"
I was crossing through history and we never appreciate it. We read our spreadsheets and drink our lattes, talk to colleagues and eat bacon butties, but outside there's a world, a landscape, a changing planet, it's all fluxed up out there
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