A dear friend of mine once lived near this building, which is on the railway line as it passes behind the Beehive Centre. I went to her house every Wednesday when my boyfriend was roleplaying because she lived close to my work, and we’d spend the evening watching terrible films. It was a great time and I miss it a lot.
This building used to have the most alluring whitewash graffiti on it I’ve ever seen. It loomed, red brick on a charcoal sky, over black crosshatched railway tracks and powerlines, and its eschatological query seemed so urgent and so real. The graffiti has been since cleaned off, but it still feels as though it’s there.