trudge

I love exploring the grafitti covered back alleys around my office. I live in the heart of a big modern city but the modernity and outward wealth is a veneer covering an underworld I rarely see.

Step two small blocks off the main street and you find old paths like this one. An outdoor art gallery - the grafitti changes regularly, strewn with cigarette butts and god knows what else, bashed in pipes and broken glass. It's one of my favourite places.

On my afternoon walk, I met this old man, pushing a wagon filled with wood scraps, trudging slowly as he pushed it along. He looked tired but determined. He reminded me of someone from a Dickens novel.

The golden light was shining from the first open window I've ever seen here. I looked inside and saw some sort of workshop with people sitting at a table assembling something electronic.

Very mysterious. A whole other reality parallel to my own pristine office existence.

I didn't want to break his privacy, so I quickly snapped this shot as he disappeared into the distance.