THEY’RE often the ones we overlook as he hurry about the city during our day. But these are the real humans of Sydney.

Click through the below gallery to see all of the photos captured by photographer Rohan Kelly.

IN PICTURES: Humans of Sydney

Michael Polgreen

WITH his dogs by his side and a guitar in his arms, Michael Polgreen has had a tough life but says he’s happy with what he’s got.

Mr Polgreen, 55, taught himself to play guitar at 15 and although he didn’t know it at the time, it has saved his life.

Mr Polgreen grew up in Adelaide, never knew his dad and had an abusive mother. Each day, she would throw milk bottles at his head to wake him up for school. It was from there his life began to spiral out of control.

“I got into crime early and a got a probation officer,” Mr Polgreen said.

“I ended up in an orphanage and landed with the best foster parents at a sheep station.”

Those were one of the better times in his life, but things took a nasty turn when he was sent back to the orphanage and could no longer handle the isolation.

“I ran away at 15, travelled around Australia and eventually ended up in Sydney,” Mr Polgreen said.

Today, Mr Polgreen relies on his trusty guitar.

“I’d start writing music again if I had a second chance,” he said.

“My dogs are my only friends, I don’t have anything but them.”

Mark Russell

Mark Russell, known on the street as Sharky Mark, is a country bumpkin born in Goulburn.

He was abandoned by his dad at an early age, and has no recollection of him to this day. His mum was admitted to hospital with a nervous breakdown and he and his sister were thrown around between different orphanages.

media_camera Mark Russell, (Sharky Marky). Picture: Rohan Kelly

“When I left school I got a job three days a week, I used to go to the beach on the other days,” Mr Russell said.

“The family I was with didn’t like me having days off so one day I rode my bike to the station and I came to the big smoke.”

Mr Russell was just 16 at the time he ran away, and he has never looked back.

In between jobs and homes, he started drinking and smoking marijuana and hasn’t had a job since.

Margaret Blair

Margaret Blair has lived a life of uncertainty. For 60 years she was unaware of who she was and where she came from.

The 61-year-old was a part of the Stolen Generation. Originally from Kakadu, she was taken away from her family as a new born.

“I only found out two months ago, I cried for two weeks when I found out I was from Kakadu,” Ms Blair said.

“I’ve got tribal marks on my shoulders, but I wouldn’t have a clue what tribe it was from.”

Ms Blair has never met her parents, but hopes this year to go back and see whether her mum is still alive.

media_camera Margaret Blair. Picture: Rohan Kelly

“When I came here, four different families took me in,” she said.

“It might have been because I was a terrible child, if I didn’t have my way I would bang my head.”

At the ripe age of 10, she was sent back to child services and experienced years of abuse by other children.

“It was there I got bashed, they called us white mans breed. Kids threw stones at me,” Ms Blair said.

She was sent to prison before she reached her 10th birthday and was 14 when she ran away from child services.

In 1989 she travelled to Brisbane where she met her now ex-husband and had two daughters.

“My daughter works with women in prison and brings their children to them,” Ms Blair said proudly.

“My family kicked me to the curb in Brisbane because I’m a user.

But I like being here, this is my family,” she said.

Sarah-Jane Mathesson

Sarah-Jane Mathesson was adopted at birth and like many little girls, she dreamt of being a ballerina.

But she wasn’t just a dreamer, and spent most of her childhood afternoons in gruelling gymnastics and ballet classes.

“I was sponsored to go to America for gymnastics and then I was at the AIS for a scholarship and started coaching,” Ms Mathesson said.

When asked of her childhood, Ms Mathesson remembered running away at two-years-old because she didn’t want to sleep anymore.

media_camera Sarah-Jane Mathieson. Picture: Rohan Kelly

“I was found running around with a nappy on and the dog had a collar with the address,” Ms Mathesson said.

“These lovely people brought me back and said ‘are these yours’.”

Ms Mathesson was a young talent with so much potential ahead of her, but her life wasn’t all tutu’s and twirls.

Ms Mathesson and her siblings were often left with no way to get to and from school and no food for dinner.

“The neighbours heard we were trouble so they refused us and said we stole their milk money.”

“So we put shaving cream in their letter box and let the wheels down, and finally one lady on the corner said she would give us a feed.”

Ms Mathesson has never been able to find an excuse as to why her biological parents gave her up.

“Without finding them I was always on hold and could never be honest with myself,” Ms Mathesson said.

Adrian Chansson

THEY call him the book worm of Woolloomooloo, because you will never find him without a book nearby.

Adrian Chansson has just about seen the whole of Australia. He spent most of his childhood travelling and even passed up a university entrance to pursue his dream of travelling.

Mr Chansson has had a lot of jobs but worked mainly in the transport industry driving trucks.

“I’ve still got my truck licence, but I have been drinking since I was 14 and couldn’t get back in a truck,” Mr Chansson said.

media_camera Adrian Chansson in Woolloomooloo 11th July. Portraits of characters on Sydney's streets. For a picture series on portraits and stories of people who make up the Sydney culture and diversity. Picture: Rohan Kelly

“I made the biggest mistake of my life, I got married.”

The father of two hasn’t seen his sons in 25 years, who would now be 30 and 31.

“The last time I tried to see them, my ex-wife kindly departed WA as I was flying in.”

“No one could do anything about it. That was a waste of $4000.” Mr Chansson said.

Mr Chansson has been sitting in the one spot for three years, he spends most of his time reading and said he doesn’t have an issue with living on the street.

“It’s a good way to get away the day and exercise your brain.”

“I’ll read just about anything, as long as it’s not a romance novel,” Mr Chansson said.