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I sit up in my little 'home' Not made of bricks, not made of wood, not even a little piece of stone. This is what I live in; A cardboard box-room enough for one.
(just an extract from the prologue) When you wake up to screaming sirens in the dirty streets, your whole body switches to hyper alert.
Time. 16:45. I saw him for the first time. It was December. Ice cold. And there he lay outside the GAP store, under the display window. On Regents Street. He was curled up under a dirty white fur...