The City Street

I live in the city, a great big city; multi-cultural and diverse.
From the very rich to the very poor.
Race riots, destruction of the homeless and prostitution whilst footballers and drugs dealers throw wads of cash.
It sounds like any city doesn’t it?
This city is special; the down and out come in to the centre and call it glamorous and safe, they come in for the same reasons the rich do;
You don’t need money to see the beauty around, only to buy it.
My street is one way, it leads directly from some of the worst parts of the outer city areas right in to the heart of it.
It is busy with buses and people travelling on foot.
Every day I see business people and drug addicts walk up and down my street going about their business, sharing the space.
It is a street shared by a diverse cross section of the inter and outer city inhabitants. Most people who live beyond the top of the street will not venture past the bottom unless they really have to.
The street runs right down the middle of a lush and trendy area, home of the vinyl and vintage interlaced with sex shops and music venues.
I can look on to my street and see the desperation, from the workers and the addicts, desperation for money. The city mentality shared on one city street.


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