The tiny mesh window can only open a few inches before striking the security grill.
Beyond a wall stained with congealed vomit.
A vivid abstract of vegetable salad with urine wash.
Above, topped with rusting fleur-de-lis pattern railings a crumbling grey pavement just visible.
Heels click and soles slap concrete as unknown feet hurry by.
Occasionally someone will stop, a few seconds no more.
Their temporary presence marked with a cigarette packet, sandwich wrapper or drinks can dropped to fall on rat picked bags of garbage.
An odour of decay seeps through the grill.
Cellar lights flicker and go out as the slot meter sucks the last coin dry.
Faint sad sobs of despair join the fetid air.
The cries of loneliness ignored as unknown feet hurry by.