I want to try and paint a verbal picture.

I am sitting in my car in a narrow street of four storey grey granite buildings on each side. Police are trying to gain access to a flat, succeed, then an ambulance car appears. He comes out very fast – looks like he is too late.

Next to the flat there is a large granite church building. It has a picture of a clown above the door with a bold “KOKO” on the sign board where the ministers name used to be. KOKOs is closed too.

Across the street, there is a massive red stone episcopal church. Closer inspection shows that this building is now living accomodation. A sign points to a small meeting hall at the back, where is appears that the remnant episcopalians meet.

The people who walk past are old. No, actually they just look older than they are. Some of these folks have hard life etched on their faces. As for the young people, many faces have the drug induced death-mask giving them a distant look.

The rest of the passers by can be identified as Eastern European by their dress and language. They appear much healthier and you can pick up a sense of community with them.

Here, no-one says hello. People walk with their faces to the ground.

The predominant question in my mind is “what does the Kingdom of God look like here?”