The Decline

Wandering around Dudley is a strange feeling after years away. The vibrant, culture-rich hub that I remember seems transformed, and not in a good way. The market brings back memories of breakdancers, rastas hammering out roots reggae on boomboxes; further back than that, the first time I ever saw anyone with a mohican hairstyle (bright green, as it happens), just outside the high street record shop. Today, it's a ghost town.

This is a statue representing Dudley's ascent through the hand of man; I can only hope the process isn't inexorably in reverse.

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