Ashton under Lyne – Launderette

Cycling along Curzon Road one sunny Sunday afternoon, I found to my surprise, facing me across the Whiteacre Road junction.

– An empty yet extant launderette.

One lone drier tumbling, lonely – an absence of presence, save myself.

The usual spartan interior almost unkempt, enlivened by four legged, almost alien, ovalish plastic laundry baskets. A sunlit shimmer of brushed steel surfaces, low lit and deeply shadowed linoleum tiles.

Under the illuminating hum of bare fluorescent tubes.

I snapped and exited, unwashed.

Great!

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