Peeking out from within one of the minarets reaching skyward like a middle finger salute high above the Irem Temple in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. A narrow, vertical wooden ladder caked in powdery airborne bird feces lead up to the pinnacle of the tower. But before the imposing aerial view of The Diamond City below could be absorbed, a rickety trap door soldered closed from decades worth of petrified animal turds had to be falcon punched open, in turn sending a spray of feathers from the pigeons chilling above fluttering down like glitter. After the panicked pigeons parted their man-made roost, I took upon their perch and was graced with a spectacular birds-eye view of downtown Wilkes-Barre, a city in despair. I hung out high above within the steeple without fear of being spotted for the sidewalks are vacant within this cold grey coal metropolis, seemingly void of people and life.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |