In the hospital there would be bustle and silence, clean corridors and Costa Coffee. In the hospital, there would be decisions and choices, hope and heartache.
In the entrance area, a man stands in his soldier's uniform, with his trousers rolled up to his knees. Bionic man. Artificial legs on proud display I look up at his face - so badly scarred. Maybe not bionic after all. Just talking and laughing with his friends.
All these things still to come when I pass through the doors;
these trees, this sunrise.