Driving into the city, there is an overwhelming glare of light.
People are rushing past me.
Blue lights, sirens on their way to another emergency.
A lady tries to scam me out of a couple of quid but she works the block – I have seen her before.
The smell of traffic, stale beer and food.
The shop is crowded at 10.30pm (not 22.30) and drenched in neon light.
As I spot the cement bags in front of house, I expect the building site that is to be found upstairs.
After 15 days of quiet, of family and friendship, I lie in bed in an empty house and remind myself that I choose to be here.