Conversely, it begins at the other end; a slight stinging of the toughened skin as the ball of each foot presses on the ground. Left, right, left, right. Small steps compiling the journey.
In the pseudo-darkness, crowds rush past me on their way to goodness-only-knows-what. Or where. They must know something I don’t: each body presses on, every face avoids my gaze.
To me, the streetlights are as they once were – a sulphurous glow, the toxic polluting of a dark night. The sight of them burns through to the brain, boring holes in my consciousness.