cane hill | syringes on sunday

Outside in the small courtyard, I was able to peer into a room which had remained unopened since the hospital closed. The floor had collapsed and tiles and plaster had fallen into the room.

And in one corner, a table remained laid, waiting for a meal that would never come.

Smorgy found some forks and spoons in another room - and took some as a souvenir. And then mixed the cutlery up with my own. So, occasionally as I’m enjoying a stinking hot curry, I’ll discover that the fork is stamped “Hospital Property”. Nice.