HOLT TOWN, MANCHESTER 3.10AM
Watch the short film, containing my reading of the text, sounds from the dawn and extra photographs.
I was woken not by my alarm, but by the sound of wind screaming through gaps in my door. And then, on leaving for Holt Town, I nearly forgot my keys, which would have meant I’d have been locked out on my return after sunrise.
This caused me to feel unsettled, a sense further enhanced when, after parking on a bridge over the tram tracks, I looked down to see torches flashing in the woods, perhaps coming towards me. People were calling, and a man near the station was pacing, looking around, as if lost, or on guard.
The trees swung from side to side, as if performing a form of violent Tai Chi, and a deep hiss underpinned the loud birdsong that had begun at first light. The man disappeared back into the woods, and I nervously set up my camera, looking towards a row of terraced houses that rested next to a strange mobile home, above which, on a roof, was neatly placed a car.
A heron then flew low and gracefully over this scene, beating its wings with easy strength, defying the blowing gusts of air. Despite the early hour, the road was busy, pulsing with bursts of traffic, whether it be speeding gangsters, people on shift work, or Royal Mail vans hurtling off with our precious letters and parcels.
The area felt disturbed, and I remained tense whilst I worked. The dull light extended dawn, and so I managed to make my way down the road, past further houses, some boarded up, others still shadowed as the occupants slumbered. I was briefly reminded of a sleepy hamlet, but from a strange dream.
Above the Lunch Box cafe there was a hole in the roof, further along was the Hong Kong Funeral Services building and, beyond that, broken, brick walls and mills undergoing evolution. Scrapyards and garages confronted an overgrown park, cobbles bursting like acne through tarmac skin.
The district is due for regeneration, and in some years will be unrecognisable from its appearance on this morning. But the wind will continue to blow through found gaps, and we’ll still sense the ghosts of the old city as the trams trundle through the new paradise, transporting people to a life of apparent peace.
