The pungent aroma of freshly ground coffee, the delicious odour of croissants baked with almonds, the hustle and bustle of many feet as they clamour for attention at the counter. I notice a reflection and I stare through myself as I gaze longingly at the reaches beyond my reach.
My eyes sting from the bitter tears that fall silently down my cheeks and my stomach growls painfully in anticipation of a meal that is beyond my means. I move away, leaving my reflection behind, only for it to re-join me at the next window where the cycle of desire begins yet again, as my body slowly starves.
Shuffling slowly down the street, I’m assaulted by the same sensations over and over again, flashes of food – followed by twinges of pain and then realise that they are ghost images caused by the salt in my tears. I smile, a greeting to a passer-by, but, as with the thousands of smiles I’ve sent before, they are not returned. Like my own shadow, I feel invisible. I wipe my eyes with a dirty cuff and continue my lonely walk in the vain hope that I may receive a meal this day.
Image by Issi Nash Instagram @issi_nash1