Once, when I lived in the north, across the trans Pennine M62, lies Manchester, a wet, grey and grimy city. Almost ten years later, passing this city, the railway stations struck me as bright, clean, and modern. Perhaps I saw the city with a different pair of lens, or perhaps the public places have been spruced up?
Manchester Piccadily station,
on a week day morning
Manchester International Airport station,
empty at high noon
