It’s one of London’s busiest streets where hordes of bustling executives on six-figure salaries race past to catch their trains back to the Home Counties every day.
But while countless numbers of those passengers will pop into the nearby bars and restaurants for post-work refreshment, for the scruffily dressed man sitting on the pavement subsistence is the furthest thing from his mind.
Instead he appears intent on filling the stubby pipe he is holding, carefully sliding the contents of a paper wrap into its business end, tamping it down and then fumbling to find a lighter to ignite his workings before inhaling
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