By David Brooks
19 Jan 2009
I travel through this underpass twice a day. It links Blackfriars Underground station with my work, underneath a busy road next to the river Thames.
I leave my house in the leafy suburbs to descend into the Underground and 45 minutes later I emerge from the darkness in the heart of the city.
Sometimes a homeless lady stands here and sells dolls she has knitted from wool. I have never bought one.
Every night an elderly man sets up a small stand where he sells the Evening Standard newspaper. He is obsessed with asking me how long it takes me to get home. I know how long it takes him to get home - 10 minutes - he tells me every day. I don't know his name.
These are things that I find familiar.