I’ve been photographing roadside crosses for the longest time. I cannot explain why. It could be a morbid fascination, the photographic value or maybe my enquiring mind and the fact that I cannot understand exactly what drives people to do this? Every time I stop I find different reasons, thus the question is never answered and I keep on asking. I always wonder why this person was chosen, what had happened, I wonder what their last words were and who they spoke them to, I wonder who’s left and what’s left of them and I always end up praying for them.

Some of these spaces become shrines with park benches, trees and paving. Others have had fresh cut flowers for many years. Even next to busiest highways these spaces always seem to be serene and have a holy atmosphere that surrounds them.

That was until I was greeted by this macabre scene. I have never experienced such strange emotions at a cross-site. I could feel something evil lurking there, it was almost as if it was a crime scene. It’s as if the life-like stuffed toys accentuated what had happened here. Their lifeless bodies hanging there as witnesses or companions. They were all looking down as if in prayer or a moment of silence but I could feel their eyes following me, willing me to leave …

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