I think I'm chasing something between precision and feeling, a space where documentation can quickly become devotion. I can photograph strangers passing buildings, becoming momentary companions to the structures that will outlive us both. A young woman in a white coat hurries past Victorian stonework, creating a leap, a conversation across time that only my camera witnesses in a single moment. And nobody cares, except me.

Like Manchester itself, these images refuse embellishment. They stand about awkwardly in black, white and that shade of grey that was invented for this city's mood. No filters, no fancy tricks, just a transaction between light, lens and the parade of humanity that has flowed through these streets, the mill workers, the market traders, the office workers, the night clubbers, all briefly illuminated against brickwork, concrete and steel absorbing their stories.