One of the most intriguing, yet at the same time repulsive, streets in Manchester. More of an alleyway than a road, but still carrying a name and road markings, it must be amongst the least travelled routes in the city.
I've only ever come across one other person whilst there, and she was also taking photos of this filthy thoroughfare, probably with a similar appreciation of it. From the odour and remains in certain corners, I get the impression it is more 'convenient' of an evening.
Reyner Street has no front doors, no public access to any of the buildings that tower above. Grease streaked kitchen extractors and air conditioning units rise up from the backs of Chinatown restaurants, water (hopefully) drips down from neglected gutters and pipes above. Eerily quiet, it has a threatening atmosphere whilst at the same time providing respite from the traffic and crowds on Portland Street running parallel a few metres away. Years worth of kitchen effluent grip the redbrick walls. The street surface is worryingly tacky. I felt like I needed to disinfect myself upon emerging.
This dirt smeared back passage is a reminder of the old city, the antithesis to the proliferation of glass and steel. Why write about such an unpleasant non-place? Streets like this enable the city to function, sometimes unpleasant to experience, but with a quality of their own.
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