In her pram which is a trolley she carries a baby, which is really the life that she has in old carrier bags and a holdall which carries nothing. She lives in her dream of french fries,scones and cream, kindly people would pass her and offer some coin, she accepted,quite gracefully fully aware that dreaming or not she needed her pennies to buy her a *** of London Dry Gin. She spoke in third person as if she was not there at all, a bit like the holdall, empty. No faces to face the faces that faced her she hid in the barbed wire of unkindly stares where the world couldn't find her and her baby was safe in the bags in the pram.
Life carries on until it is gone and then carries on a bit more, somewhere in between I bet you have seen her perhaps you have been her. The queen of the street with jewels on her feet which are tatty old shoes but she lives in her dream that way she don't lose.