I've long held a fascination with back alleys, wondering what secrets they kept from the front fascades they present to the public. Exploring them almost feels like an intrusion, being somewhere you shouldn't; the grafitti code for the stories of the streets, the air permeated with the raw and pungent odors of humanity.
I'm drawn to the material textures of the buildings, looking to find balance within the barred windows and doors, the intrusion of nature, disgusted as it attempts to reclaim the land.
These pathways are no longer just for interurban transportation and garbage collection - for some this is a microcosm of their existence: their bedroom, bathroom exposed to indignant views. This is their source of commerce, and even food - their survival.