The John Dalton Building by Sam Illingworth

The John Dalton Building

Beneath your garish exterior,

Betwixt white-washed corridors

And offices lined with heavy tomes,

Magnitudes of ambition lie dormant –

Waiting to be discovered,



Each morning

They pass through

Your gaping maw;

High on caffeine, youth,

And the sense of expectation.

And each evening

You usher them back out

Into the cold Mancunian rain,

With nothing more than the

Clothes on their back.

And the ideas in their heads.

You hope

That you have sparked an interest,

So that they might build a fire

From their ambitions;

Basking in its glow,

Before passing on the embers

To start new fires

And new dreams.

Sam Illingworth