The crazy guy who stands on the street corner beneath the Max Hotel talking to himself or to imaginary companions

The crazy guy who stands on the street corner beneath the Max Hotel talking to himself or to imaginary companions, who I saw sleeping in the corner seat of McDonald’s the other morning when I went in for my breakfast, is waiting to cross the road beneath me now. His face is in profile to me, and I can see he has sad eyes. He is clean shaven, always, apart from his bushy moustache, and he chats away to whoever, but he has sad eyes. Again I wonder what his story is. A real bitterness and pain and sadness in his eyes. Ah there’s that blonde jogger again, with lovely big big black tracksuited bottom, dayglo pink socks.
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