Trains. They’re not an obsession, they’re a third of my life spent rattling around on these long tin caterpillars, staring out through their eyes.
Living in the same city my whole life (-3 months+holidays), writers such as Anik become familiar yet always somewhat distant and anonymous friends. Like musicians I’ve never met but listen to frequently.
The railways would be no where near as interesting without their signatures which remind us of their existence in a place where it’s often difficult to be noticed. They make my journeys.
Locking up young graffiti artists and writers is imo, one of the most unjust things that happens in this country. SKEAM (small tag on the left) was a local writer who sadly committed suicide last year following a hard jail sentence for painting trains. Unfortunately, he’s not the first writer to die in prison. Read more about him here, and lets hope things will change this year.