Welcome to The Village, a quiet, quaint and cosy place where people are happy and simple pleasures satisfy the mind. Country fayres, birthday parties and amateur dramatics all have a place here, and tea and cake are a number one priority.
Enter The Estate. Teenage mothers, gang culture, the struggle of ethnic minorities. Broken society, no hope, a battle of weak will. The strength is there, but it is long forgotten. Large TV, full England strip, Nike Air Max and Tennent's Super.
People with carrier bags containing mystery items, outdated trousers pulled up too high, a questioning air, an intense stare. When you meet these people they won't like you, but you're not bothered, because you are fascinated by their identity.
Come and visit the Market Town. We welcome visiting trade and love to see new faces. We will bear all weather for you, for ours is a stance not to be broken. Bring us a cup of tea in a polystyrene cup and a battered fish barmcake and we will love you forever.
What do people do in the twilight hours? Gamblers, drinkers, singers, the lonely and the heartbroken. Black and white fragments of the struggle and adventure of the hours after dark, when the sane and stable sleep whilst the rogue and restless wander.
I am proud to be photographed. I know myself and I like myself. Don't tell me how to stand or smile, I have my own posture and I am sticking with it. I am expressive, I am free-willed, I am serious. What I give to you is my looks and my stare. Thank you for taking my picture.