Monday, 6 April 2015


Something about ports in a post-coastal era where a few passing ships and otherwise tourist trade and newer but soon dated shopping mall, and noisy fun-fairs are left, something inevitably left aside, part closed-down and part run-down, grey walls with spots like rust or foxing on the inside of a title-page, tasty bite takeaway by the Chinese predecessor with the for sale sign in the window.  Bars and cigarettes and people off at work in the city heart a bus ride away. The mall's standardised walks and the disco-popped synthesised tannoy outside mainly for the family groups on an afternoon out or the pre-teens, the brief secluded sea enclosed around the corner with the moored ships being the evidence  of port or harbour.

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