There’s a stranger walking down the street.
His skin is plastered with a thick layer of dust and worn out at the knuckles. Like a wild cat, he treads lightly and barefoot on the wet asphalt. When he keeps still, he’s almost invisible, hidden in the thick paper and food waste undergrowth of the city streets shrouded in dense smog and a cloud of bad breath of eight million hungry commuters. He pauses, he breaths in the hot air – it stings the soft tissue of his lungs, like molten metal. It smells like deep fried fish and chips - thick like oil, salty like the ocean. Read more →