Some things look like brighter in Finsbury Park. No, it´s not a fabulous neighbourhood, It´s simple, even mediocre, and has an old brick bridge. Under that bridge, since the realy morning, a homeless called Nick had been begging for some pounds or pence, or whatever you want to give.
I gave him 20p. He nodded his head and opened a shy and toothless smile. So, he looked inside my eyes and said with your melancholic voice:
“Mate, you cannot say goodbye to anyone who lives inside you.”
I gave him one more pound. Motherfucker.