He couldn't remember when he hadn't lived on the streets.
That didn't mean much really, as his brain was somewhat addled by the cheap plonk that was his choice of liquid. He would have preferred a decent Scotch, but finances had been a little stretched to say the least, since his long-time dive into alcoholism and homelessness.
Still, he reminded himself, these digs were about the best that he had experienced.
Cool in Summer.
Relatively warm in Winter.
Completely out of the rain and the cold winds that could whistle cruelly passed the hidey-hole. And the pedestrians above him supplied him with a trickle of cigarette butts. Those who knew that he resided below their feet, would often leave him a half-eaten sandwich or some other morsel. Dropping it down to him as they passed o...