A rusted chain locks access to a long-abandoned mine — its entrance buried in ivy and silence. Once a place of labour and extraction, now sealed, it marks the beginning of a landscape shaped by human hands, then left behind.
Concrete fragments lie among wildflowers on the site of a wartime accommodation camp. Rewilded by neglect, the land briefly began to heal — until renewed development pressures again threaten its fragile return to nature.
A derelict guardroom stands on the edge of woodland, overtaken by ivy and leaf-fall. Once built to control and protect, it now watches over nothing — its authority eroded, its purpose vanished into the trees.
A data centre rises behind barbed wire, warning signs and CCTV — its perimeter sealed and surveilled. This may be the future for the nearby Donkey Field, a place of public recreation for over fifty years. If approved, it will shift from open rural space to industrial exclusion, erasing both memory and access.
