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The Thamesmead co-design collective (CDC) shared their experiences creating positive change in their community at the final conference. This poem was one CDC member's perspective.

Every morning I am awoken by……………. no no nooo. The shrieks of the arched back elderly woman walking her muzzled pitbull, as she struggles to restrain its muscular vigor.
I arise and open my window to take in fresh air, as I gaze upon the Brutalist paradise of angular concrete that lays before me. Rustling of the trees and chirping of the birds as they sing their morning song. Footsteps of the early morning risers as they march to the bus stop for their morning commute. The drifting scent of marijuana as my neighbors attempt to quench their mental struggles.

My footsteps search for peace, accompanied by others, hello and how you doin mate’s. Dampened by the grind of mobility scooters both young and old. The familiarities of our close knit community, no face unknown to me. The self interpreted facades displaying the construction ability of the people within. The decaying light fixtures and rusty overhead pipes of the old unused heating system harking back to a conformity of yesteryear, now a breeding ground of coo’s in an avian graveyard.
Vibrant aerosol work creates the backdrop for many a music video and urbanesc BBC drama.
Footsteps from film crews break the blades of grass we call our gardens.

Phases and stages mark the ever changing brickwork, as the hard wearing basic brush blows in the wind. Nestled in the reclaimed railway sleepers of the raised planters. The beauty of dark concrete prefab slabs, a warmth to the London native. Contrasted by the bright bricks of the blanditute of the middle class society. The carefully attended plaits of the pony’s mane stands free grazing in grass unclaimed. The defiant stance of a community untamed by the concrete cage.
Bats and birds are heard as the night turns to day and the buzz of insects from the lake not far away.

I find peace in nature, a place untouched. A field of green to laze my days and not do too much.
The smell of wildflower patches that have reseeded themselves. Newly planted trees appease the need for shade from the heat that swells. Southmere, waters that used to be clear but recently pumped so will be next year. Swans glide with ducks and geese beside, patrolling the lake is theirs. The new boathouse has been rebuilt so soon the lake will be shared.

What something is, and what something must be is something that must be interpreted not by you
but by me.

This place is our home not a dome, a place for you to test your growth. Provocation laid bare, of gentrification we are aware….

Lest we groan your photographic opportunity.

This is our community.

-Chris Sekulla-