"Why is life so cruel, dear friend?" Said the weeping man, slouched over the railings overlooking the harbour.
"What do you mean?" Said the friend.
"Nothing appears to be going my way, I've just lost my job, my girlfriend and I are beginning to have problems and most importantly my-"
And before the poor man could finish, the friend stepped in.
"Look upon the ground and tell me what you see?"
The man stared down and noticed multiple mussel shells scattered and broken.
It was almost reminiscent to that of a battlefield.
"I see shells all broken and-"
And before he could finish, the friend edged in.
"Yes, this is obvious, but what created such sights?"
The man thought for a minute.
And in this moment a flopping gull appeared from above, startling him.
The gull, encircling both men then dropped a shell which landed with a thud.
"You see, a mussel is almost impenetrable-"
The gull swooped down between the men and cawed, grabbing the shell between its beak before flopping away again.
"But the gull, dear friend-"
Suddenly the shell smashed down from above and opened up, revealing a soft glistening mollusc inside.
"The trick is perseverance, to never give up"
The hungry gull then began to gobble up the morsefull before flying off for the final time.
"And with that inner ideology, one will accomplish his mission, no doubt about it."
The friend gave a smile before resting his hand on the man's shoulder.
"Even when times get tough, we shouldn't ever give up."
The poor man looked up, his eyes now clearer than ever.
"Life will throw us obstacles and challenges. But the trick is to overcome. To learn. To be brave."
The man, now smiling; nodded.
The two men set off along the walkway, with the friend intervening once more.
"Now, what was it you were saying about life being so cruel?"

Car horns slice through the air,
congestion gathers on the roads
making murky smoky trails

There sits a man

whom bears heavy weight;
shrouded, in dark clothing and mystery
Bearded, diligent and wise

Alan is his name

A Scouser if I'd ever seen one,
always happy and yet never alarmed
by the noises and pollution around him

This, is his home

I see him everyday when I pass,
come rain or shine, hail or wind
He sits, diligently and acute
with a paper cup in hand

Living in the open city

He shows that life can be unpredictable,
yet freedom cannot be contained
We've chatted, him and I
He says the institutions can't keep him down

They're out for money and control

This is his freedom, his way of life
to do what whatever he pleases
Tent ready, trolly in possession
Without fear, without order
without rules

Not knowing what the next day may bring

Stood, fixed to the spot the man observed well into the darkness
as far as the eye could see. This was his view, as he nervously awaited his flight. The large windows showcased a cascade of gale and rain, like a Russian ballet, some kind of twisted beauty. Looking outwards towards the sheer magnitude of the storm, blankets of pelting rain gunned down onto the tarmac ground. The only lights were from the large runway floodlights, rocking back and fourth as the wind began to show no mercy. The windows take a battering, as his mind contemplates ever get off this rock.
"Mother nature cannot be tamed, nor can her wrath, it's better to let her be," he mutters.
The loud speaker blurts out "Departure gates have now opened."
And, in this moment his fixed gaze slowly detaches itself from the wrath, away from the demon. Away, from the dance.