Here are some pictures I took over the last week or so in Leicester. Street surfaces fascinate me with their patterns of textures and colours. They actually awaken something in me, something... proud. Having grown up in a post-communist concrete jungle, I'm always eager to prove that beauty does manifest itself across the "ugly" city wastelands. There is something glamorous in urban decay. Especially when, on a good day, patterns of life and lust emerge from nowhere, the dumpster, the gutter, the puddle. Beauty that makes me ache. Patterns shaped by chaos itself. Odes and paeans to wear and tear. Track marks of our evanescence.
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