A Tail of Two Cities
Sitting here now, under a bush, sheltering from the rain it feels a bit surreal, but the last few days have been strange. A couple of weeks ago I was homeless and cold in an unfriendly city, moping about and feeling sorry for myself. And now here I am, in another city tucking into burger and chips under a bush. You’d think I’d be unhappy, but I’m not. The thing is, I’m a thief. I can’t help myself. I’ll steal anything. I’d like to say I steal to feed my family I don’t. I steal because I’m hungry, or greedy. People mostly ignore me or walk away in disgust. I repulse them. I don’t know why. People are odd. It was on one of my nightly scavenges that set me on a new path and brought me here. I found a book. Not just any book, but a book of dreams. A book of hope. It told of a place called London, and a chap by the name of Fagin who sounded like just the man I needed to see. From what I could gather, this fellow ran a band of thieves who went around London stealing things for him,...