Buildings can have purpose, meaning and poignancy for users and admirers that others fail to see. Our experiences in the spaces imbue them with a value to us that they do have for others. Places where have studied and worked can hold a special place for us.
Room on the top floor.
First door on your right.
Empty, apart from 23 chairs.
Human Life, gone.
It’s silent, yet busy.
The road outside the windows is crammed with angry office workers.
The world inside the room is crammed with history.
Last building standing.
An island among the chaos.
Everything is moving and changing outside.
But the a structure remains.
Stuck in time,
Stuck in memories.
And stuck in many hearts.
It feels like it knows, the building understands what’s happening.
Students, tutors, caretakers, passers on the streets, we all know.
We all know that our building, our education is going to disappear.
Changed for the better? Who knows!
Yet all we see now is change for the worse.
For we are documenters.
We hold the decisive moment.
However, there is too much to preserve here. Too much love and care.
You cannot capture 130 years in four weeks.
Circus street will be missed by many, yet it will never be forgotten by those who
Had the honour to experience its beauty,
The walls, the halls.
For there are only chairs now: chairs on an island waiting to disappear.
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This poem is narrated by Lorraine Ansell, a British female voiceover professional.