Cast in the dying light of low setting Autumn sun spectrums of scorched white yellow dabbed with an aura of electric green & the rising black of night fall, early Friday evening at Leeds station the last light kisses goodnight dynamic City skyline as trains draw to & fro on endless tracks of cold steel rails extending from Victoriana into tomorrow. The platform as this Yorkshire City alive with life, the hustle of nights outs begin as others end, journeys home & weekend commutes the pull & carrying of suitcases sports bags & plastic carriers contrast with high heels & short skirts, bold shirts match chinos & pretensive bare ankles, fancy dress parades of humoured & imaginative costumes, face paint & rich cologne, extravagant excess oppose clothes of tarnished poverty, body odour & sticky stale second hand tab end smoke mixed with dirt & sweet putrid strong white cider, mucky coats & ragged shoes, dirty socks with holes, the contrasting diversity of living city dystopia, each & own unique characters & the stories they tell.
Doors open to the carriage exodus, the rushing exchange of human direction a wave of energy in transitional release, quick to pass the wave flows dispersed to night & city street, briefly the platform still once more as train doors slide shut, all seated the night train slowly pulls from station as city lights flicker to life for the evening to follow of animal inebriation, hosted by Bacchus & the faithful followers of the wild life, expensive meals, drinks & dancing, good laughs & the many wicked, in the twilight builds an energy over city as static before a storm, the texture of liquid hedonism, risk, the thrills & threats of vomit sex & violence, the chaos of the night as city streets transform into the nocturnal playground, where the barriers of over & underworld entwine in pubs & bars of the night crawl, lives hang in the balance of chance encounters & the darkest consequences that follow, life’s changed forever on these city nights, lives lost & shattered in the name of a good time & tradition.
Train engines fire black smoke expelled skyward from wide blackened exhaust pipes the fumes rise to air, We pick up speed, escaping the night circus Rumbling along twin rail & timber sleepers cutting through rain & wind of early autumn evening night, our carriage, our vessel of dynamic freighter in flight, travelling light show on track & wheels, a pulse of energy over land the train cuts through darkness disturbing the silence of the space between places polluting nights stillness with light, noise & diesel smoke, a rolling film of square framed windows emit white carriage light & silhouettes of empty seats, empty carriages except for the ghost of the few travellers riding the night train to Terminus onwards to the end of the line, onwards to Kingston Upon Ull, Closing in on Humber the carriage empties with each stop as we pass platform edges filled with people heading the opposite direction towards life, toward the shamanic night.
Passing stations of once important places, historic towns of Selby & Brough after which the carriage is my own, alone amongst rows of empty synthetic blue seats The eerie silence of the Night train & its ghost riders, looking out to the dark vista of nights shadow through walls of glass I’m greeted by reflections of self & carriage seats, rocking silently to the hypnotic rhythm of steel rails which mellow the soul, occasionally abruptly broken by pressure changed the Rattle & shake flashing awakening of rail lightening echoes of noise & light as opposite trains pass telling our speed, silent again.
The shore of Humber waters a void of blackness, high above visible the faint & haunting red lights of structures warning, Concrete, steel & street lights of the sky road, we pass under the bridge this place of tamed water & loss by gravities escape, symbol of Modern Man & nature’s conquest stained with the sorrow of wasted lives & humanities despair, fallen here the many loved ones lost to social decay & degradation, jumpers broken by the psyche of Dark Cities that envelop them, Hated & ridiculed worn to sick despair by the bitter snares of others, those who fall at this place split open the veil of living & the great unknown, always to their families eternal pain, lost to the concrete edge & the abyss, they fall to rest, themselves suffering no more, as the wicked smile on guilefully from the shadow of their labours.
Onwards to Hull we run parallel with Via Regia, the Motorway connects Europe to Britannia Inferior, The North, via Hull Docklands, lined with bright street lights of the A63, we match speeding cars that hurtle along the Roman Road which as a high wall divides the City from Humber water, the people in fear of the Rivers they once thrived upon, indigenous culture & instinctive memory lost as a clipped bird in the battery.
Rumbling Into Hulls old dark heart, passing by what remains of the once proud West Hull fishing fleets, the silhouette of their old houses visible against the light polluted night sky, these old streets engrained with human spirits lost along the way, the echoes of the yesterday people, lines of terraced rows from Victoriana to today we live in their shadow, the homes of former whalers & slave traders & the workforce enslaved by them. Brick & mortar forged by wealth fleets of in humanity sailed North to Whitby, Newcastle, Edinburgh & beyond Britannia to Arctic Waters for the reaping of life sacrificed to feed our hunger of greed, cruelty, death & industry, living sinew farmed for bone oil & skin, blubber pots and seal clubs this culture hard & cruel is cities foundation, until began redemption the catch switched out for fishing fleets of cod & haddock and the lives lost in pursuit of them, souls lost to cruel seas, the old heart of place still beats of them in the grandchildren of the Cod Heads, their culture fading fast, its roots of adventure, bravery & rebellion, violence & money, fear & gossip, wagging tongues of fishing folk, wife’s tales & more of husbands, the pursuits of violent retribution that follows them, rare & few now the weekend millionaires fresh from the catch & the leaches who feast on them.
LED lights shine bright surrounding the hospital, filtered through the city these new diodes break city darkness, the existence of night illuminated in HD clarity, gone the dull hew of yellow fluorescent & gas chemical reactions. The Hospital is a stage of light bright & glowing defying the dark, bustling grounds of health care & commerce the real asset of these Northern Cities, social decay their golden ticket as poor health and a booming healthcare industry run together as wagon & Cargo, fuel & engine, these cities of poverty & violence, hive of human suffering are met here with respect & care, hope delivered by dedicated hospital staff, mixed with cold & calculated Medicare profit, in the 2nd decade of conservative rule, Austerity & new dawn of Brexit just don’t get sick, you’ll be alright if you don’t get sick. The Hospital high rise wrapped in Aluminium cladding and illuminating square windows which look out with a commanding view of the city, these hospitals that we are born and die in, mother state & undertaker the hospital the booming industry of modern man.
We enter terminus, slowing down we creep now to journeys end, the tracks cluster together into Victorian Station and the end of the line, trains halt and journeys continue home. The smell of engines, diesel & steel against the not so cold dark night, walking over marble floors Through the deserted station groups of youths gather in black none descript & brandless clothing, hoods & browed caps, fashion evolved in response to the surveillance age, passing them in the dark city night, buses on strike the city struggles to breath, to live with transport connections tethered, reluctant black cabs carry high fares to those who can’t afford them, the last hope of the city, short staffed and over worked they roll through city streets returning to terminus for collections of human cargo, in the darkness & drawing evening the people wait in queues mixed with blind drunkenness, drugs, chaos vomit & violence, welcome to Hull
Last one out turn of the light
Friday 21st October 2022, Ull
Ull, This England, Modern Man
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