The concrete steps that stand before "The Grace Church" stretch long and crooked. And as I walked up those heavy concrete slabs I couldn't help but turn my head to notice the surroundings– dozens of boarded up homes, cars with trash bagged windows, shattered glass.
What am I doing here?
My head swung back towards the church's entrance. There, stood a smiling man, proudly dressed in a dark suit. His eyes shined with deep curiosity. "Come on in," he said, leading me away from the heavy rain. He leaned his back against the tall white doors and guided his left hand inside. I entered with my camera swinging over my neck.
Inside that church I saw the lives and faces of Cleveland. Down the street, I saw the stores they shopped at, the barber shops where they got their hair cut. I saw those boarded up homes, those broken cars, and that shattered glass.
Here are some of those faces and spaces.