THE NIGHT Watcher
It’s dark but the light from a street lamp falls on the taxi driver’s face as he passes and he looks surprised to see me. No wonder. It isn’t every day you come across an elderly man walking the streets at 5am on a wintry Sunday morning.
Perhaps he’s reassured by the fact that I’m dressed warmly because he doesn’t stop to check I’m all right – and for that I’m glad. The story of why I’m here is long and private.
Fifty-four years,
