Lying down

There's an empty block of flats along the road, nudging up to the millionaires. The blank windows display signs of earlier life: a ripped curtain, a peeling poster. Newer occupants who spraypainted the walls in yellow, pink and black. But now it's completely empty, each room advertising a vacancy.

Underneath the homeless pair have made their nest. Sleeping bags, cardboard boxes, the usual mini-shanty. In the morning, while the builders across the road saw concrete - a sharp metallic whine - and people of purpose pass quickly, the homeless doze. A sleeping protest, a stark contrast.

This shocking scene becomes routine. A sign that everything is in its allotted estate on passing.

One afternoon on that very same road (sleeping bags abandoned for the day - it's good to live in such a safe area), strange symmetry. An old lady lies on her side on the pavement, just next door to the sleepers' den. Like a baby bird fallen too soon from its nest, fragile and bewildered. Someone has placed a white pillow under her head, a snowy duvet over her body.

Concerned passers-by wait for the ambulance's blue flashing light.

(Photo courtesy of Franco Folini - check out his great shots on Flickr)