One of the things that struck me when I walked by First and Main, is I was not in the 1930’s, but I easily could have been. The line might have been longer for soup perhaps, but the same despair was on the street corner. The only difference between these people and those in the depression is simply the style of clothing. High above the doorway the name of the Madame who once ran a brothel here, Matilda Winehill is carved in stone. How she managed to get her name up there is a real curiosity.
Breakfast time at the The Bread of Life Mission in Pioneer Square Seattle. Black and white Feeding the enduring homeless.
Interesting you would capture that. On my only trip to Seattle I was struck by how dazzling buildings push up from streets where poverty appeared to be rampant, the contrast of stepping out of one of Seattle’s many fabulous restaurants to see a man drinking water from the gutter. Your great photo brings it all back.
I am always stunned by the tent cities I drive past… I don’t see this in the Eu..or maybe I am not near those places?