Men shout at me as I take photos, the cars disrupt my frame, and the fumes choke my fragile lungs. I see Hoe Street through the lens of my camera, and it looks awful, containing none of the promises of my dreams. The sweeping curve of the street is gone, replaced by grey and dusty buildings and the sense of a litter of chaos.
I’ve always been fascinated by Hoe Street in Walthamstow, E17, at least, that bit of it which runs from Forest Road to the High Street. If life was fair and we lived in a different kind of world (and one that I only push at with my imagination), Hoe Street would be an ambling walk through beautiful old buildings, with art galleries, cafes, and bookshops. A place where you engage with the feel of the old, remade successfully in the present (Read more on Interurban Lines).