The buses have stopped running to my destination.
The platform is empty, the train doesn't come.
It's a big shop, and the shopkeepers are friendly, but the shelves are bare, there's nothing much there to sustain and feed.
I'm tired and I think I've missed the flight; the taxi man won't take me with all my baggage in any case; he says "one bag only" in his broken english, and drives away, leaving me standing on the kerb.
It's a simple room, but it's comfortable, in its shabby way, and its hard to climb out, down the ladder, without getting caught in the showers of rain.
Something slowly growing inside, deep deep down. Slowly growing, unstoppable. Coming from deep inside, and burning as it grows, stopping me in my tracks, making it impossible to carry on in the same way.
Nothing more is required.