Prologue. Part 3.

Walking over forgotten food, which was hastily discarded, I'm on the road. An animal died unnecessarily to be wasted on Wade Lane. A pile of greasy kebab in ribbon like waves, a mouth bitten pita and unremitting polystyrene container. Nowhere to be seen were the vultures of the town and the birds had yet to leave their roosts to pick clean this protein forgetfulness. An animal reduced to refuse: either eaten by vermin or poured into vast landfill later and saturate the clean earth with its unholy fibres; a mound of hatred for the very substance of another being.

Now I await the 757 to deliver me henceforth.