Jemimah wears a mature head on such young shoulders - she turns nineteen in just a few days time. Her mother is a Cypriot and her father an Englishman. Already she has traveled to or lived in many different countries.
I met Jeminah during a recent Pride march and she kindly agreed to a photo-shoot around Birmingham where she's currently studying for a degree in arts and design. As well as being part of the LGBT community, Jemimah is a member of the University's burlesque group. A former ballet dancer she finds in burlesque a means to express and explore her persona.
In search of suitable backdrops we visit a coffee shop, the grounds of Birmingham cathedral, a set of old-fashioned telephone boxes squirreled away in one of the quieter thoroughfares, the Edwardian tea-room in Birmingham Cathedral and the roof garden which tops the new library.
Birmingham, like so many big cities, exists in a state of constant flux.
I retired a little over two and a half years ago and already two major carbuncles on the face of the city have disappeared. The first is the infamous Birmingham Central Library, a monolithic folly in concrete that thankfully has been reduced to rubble. The second is the much loathed National Westminster Tower, a horrible dark-walled edifice which blocked out light, air and space for the neighbouring buildings over which it once loomed like some malevolent Grim Reaper.
It remains to be seen how their successor buildings will fare, but surely anything must be an improvement.
It is, however, the centre of the city that gives rise to most concern. New developments abound on the fringes but the heart has been hollowed out by a series of major retail closures. The vast Bull Ring complex now sucks in the majority of trade, offering what I understand is termed a 'shopping experience'. Cue a massive influx of coffee shops, prosecco bars and restaurants of every conceivable variety to plug the gaps left as consumers flock en masse to Amazon and other on-line retailers of similar ilk.
The hollowing out effect is amplified by the arrival of the much-heralded tram-system. Its biggest achievement appears to be the creation of a huge dystopian concrete river through the heart of the city draining what's left of Birmingham's character. It may be efficient, but the barren concrete savannah does little to improve the look or feel of the city.
So what else is happening? We take a trip to Birmingham's new library (a vast improvement on its predecessor, though already feeling the pain of Council spending cuts) and climb up to the first viewing balcony. Here's what we saw.
