Back in the 1980s, as I was slowly losing what little natural hearing I had left, I would often go to Cleethorpes. I was drawn, in particular, to the latticework of timber and iron struts beneath the pier. I have dozens of such photographs in my archives. There was something about the almost digital arrangement of black and white - on or off, sound or silence - that suited my mood. Such times are always worth revisiting.
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