- Highlights
- I regularly felt lonely, duped, underprepared, faceless, friendless, but mostly a mixture of those on nights when I was pressed against the steamed windows of the number 159 bus by the grunting old men,
- I had learned to protect myself from the curtains of rain, the dripping archways, the faulty awnings. I learned how to flick an umbrella back into shape, how to wrestle it out of the wind, how to go low when a passing umbrella goes high. But I also felt the city assert itself against me.