There is something in the detritus of the street, the miscellaneous items which make the city run but are put out to sight, tucked around the back of the hip cafe, not longer needed, not needed to be seen, well at least not to most, there is still a need for people armed with a little black camera and an eye for these sorts of things.
He will appreciate the muted colours, the symmetry of the stack, the one slightly off giving it more personality was this a deliberate move by a disgruntled barista, a small sign of defiance, or more little the product of a rush
