swansea, neath, port talbot, bridgend, cardiff - were these concentrations of people ever attractive. industrial dormer dumps smeared over the bleak hills of the south wales coastline, the whole abortion leavened by gagging remnants of its ugly industrial past.
especially true of port talbot.
10 minutes out of town by train the harsh spell is broken. morning sun on orange willow shoots. clusters of sheep in quiet fields and an occasional stoic horse in its corrugated shelter briefly lift the spirit before the next dose of derelict dismay that is bridgend.
and then theres the litter.
trouble is this hamstrung economy has bred defeat into its people who, in turn, will inertia to win out over initiative.
smouldering like a tip fire below the grass an inescapable heritage of brutality occasionally erupts in the quietly tense communities. then a mother, two young daughters and grandma are silently bludgeoned to death. wraiths of doubt so haunting the eventual conviction. who needs halloween when you've got south wales.
© Patrick Ellis
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