The charity survivor drinks a Hari Krishna coffee at the back of Holborn station where the windows of museums stare blankly out on Lincoln's inn fields and the carpenter who watches from the corner by the taxi rank judges no one by their clothing or the way they hold their plastic cups,

the survivors only see themselves in passing car rear windows and in the blinking lights of Chubb security alarms on blackened doorways,

to survive in the impossible is not to look too closely at the person standing next to you or anyone who's scratching and survival is the key to going on and getting somewhere and it doesn't matter anywhere's a good place to move on to

and you drink your Hari Krishna dunking Garibaldi in the coffee donated rather grandly by the ladies from the institute.

Closing time, a clip from time is posted on your forehead and the sandwich in your pocket will have to keep until much later, but anywhere's a good place if you're hungry to be grateful.

Fade into the figments lining your imagination and disappear into the gathering of your day.