ARDWICK, MANCHESTER 2.43AM

Watch the short film, featuring the stills and my text read out loud, along with the field recordings.

A fox was the first thing I noticed, skilfully moving through the streets, foraging for some unseen reward. I wondered where it lived, where it came from, and how it survived in the city. As soon as it sensed me, it sped away through the railings of a gate, and disappeared into the twilight.

I looked to the east. Slithers of pale blue were pushing up into the darkened sky, indicating dawn had begun, earlier than I’d expected, and this caused me to hurry to my work.

I paced the street, searching for the pictures, eventually placing my camera in the direction of the Mancunian Way, towards the distant towers of the new city skyline.

The last time I’d photographed at dawn in Ardwick, I’d been attacked, and so I remained tense and vigilant. I again saw the fox, further away now, and considered us both to be foragers, both fearful of attack.

There were no clouds, and soon soft daylight light was diluting the shadows cast by nearby buildings. A bagel shop sign shone adventurously, its sharp, yellow colour drawing attention to hungry desire, and the imminent regeneration soon to begin in this historic district.

Despite the early hour, I was far from alone. Soon after the first birds began to sing, a bin lorry came growling down the street, drowning out the dawn chorus, its bright orange lights sweeping across the bodies of men efficiently tipping rubbish into the back of the truck.

Cars zoomed by, and buses on their way into town were full, perhaps transporting people into town to earn a meagre living cleaning offices, readying the city for other workers financially further up the food chain.

I stood and breathed in the sweet scent of a summer morning, hoping once more to see the fox, but instead a black cat scuttled past, chasing a startled bird.