From a distance the houses look beautiful. Each with its own varying design; Lime green walls, blue railing, white columns. Most are one storey maisonettes with elegant balconies and expensive looking roofing tiles. As I walk down the street, I notice more similarities. A black rusty gate here, a green rusty gate there, a brown rusty gate further off. A dog barks in each house.
There’s an old pick-up driving towards me. Its shaft is cranky and the engine is loud. A vocal protest against the heavy load it carries. I notice the rusty bonnet. Nothing is aging well here. Not even the man on the wheel who lets out a wet rusty cough as he drives past me.
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