One
Wolverhampton is not deficient in rewilded wastes. These discarded remnants of its industrial past are scratched with the grey-greens and umbers of nature creeping back. One such scrap of abandoned land is found near the station, a wide sliver of waste which has been scuffed roughly with the golden hues of moss and new-growth trees, lurking behind a crosshatch of wire.
It is winter, but winter in its last throes. The tall blue-brick walls and bridges of the Victorian railway dominate the streets. Blue bricks because Black Country clay contains iron, which turns blue-black when fired, and is harder than other bricks. The route curves under the railway arch and then turns abruptly up a cobbled street with the walls of the line forming an impassible ridge to the right.
An abandoned industrial building sleeps on the horizon, green upon green, but angular against the tangled branches.
It is winter, but winter in its last throes. The tall blue-brick walls and bridges of the Victorian railway dominate the streets. Blue bricks because Black Country clay contains iron, which turns blue-black when fired, and is harder than other bricks. The route curves under the railway arch and then turns abruptly up a cobbled street with the walls of the line forming an impassible ridge to the right.
An abandoned industrial building sleeps on the horizon, green upon green, but angular against the tangled branches.
(back)
~ Shadow Line ~