For the past year I’ve lived in the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, a world apart from the countryside I grew up in, and sometimes a world apart from any other place I’ve been. The skyline is dominated by oppressive housing structures built in the 50’s when they said the future was high risers, and street level provides the same dismal view of filthy litter, discarded carelessly by residents. The streets flooded with cooking smells three times a day at mealtimes, an unwelcoming aroma of garlic, grease and spices that no doubt bring comfort to hungry families coming together for a feast. At night, the noise of sirens fills the ghostly streets as the relentless Royal London Hospital never rests. But it’s home at least, for now.
Taxis under a Railway Bridge, Bethnal Green
Housing estate, Whitechapel
Taxi graveyard, Bethnal Green