Her name is Fatima and she has not eaten in two days.

She explains this to me in broken English and all the while her breath reeks like alcohol, tobacco and other unpleasant odors. I look like such a fine and friendly young man. Please, please will I help her out with a euro or two?

(From her coat pocket a large can of beer lies open, and it nearly falls out. In the bag she is carrying, I catch amongst the wads of old clothes a glint of green glass from the half-drunk bottles of wine).

Why should I spend my days working long and hard, and then give Fatima some euros? To run off and blow it on some more beer and wine?

I think not, and then I tell her that sorry I do not have any money. Fatima stands up and leaves me in less than a second.

There I remain all alone, such a fine and friendly person that I am.