My last day in London, back in 2003, I had to kill a few hours in Brixton while I waited for my Uncle Andy to pick me up. (As near as I can remember, this day occurred somewhere between this post and this post.) Lacking the time, money or energy to do anything else, a snapped a few photos of the buildings near where I had been staying. I didn't actually see the photos until more than two years later. This preceded my age of digital photography, you see, and the roll of film I had taken them on sat in the camera, untouched, until I finally finished it off with the Halloween photo of Kami and me that I posted a few days ago. The photos, Ive always thought, make Brixton look a little nicer than it actually was. Something about these photos seems sad to me, however, and it isn't the fact that not-so-lovingly refer to the neighborhood they depict as "the beaten prostitute district."
What do you think? Do these make you feel anything in particular?