Of all the underpasses in all the world, this one didn't smell too bad...Actaully, this heart was at street level, away from the piss and vomit, at the top of the hill we used to live on in Bournemouth, so almost on the doorstep, except a steep climb up. I think I was trying to remember where I'd parked the car - it had been one of those weekends - and there it was, this ray of light on a can tucked behind the handrail. Pure beauty, a serindipitous moment like a rainbow against a blackened sky or beams of sunlight through high cathedral windows or a patch of oil in the gutter after rainfall... it ahd been one of those weekends.
And when I see something like that I know I'm not allowed to photograph it until I find a heart nearby, and there it was, at my feet at the foot of a signpost, all pink and squishy.
Sometimes, at times like that, I honestly believe in God, and I thank Him.
Or Her.
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