Home?

Today, for probably the first time, I actually recognised someone by the tube station. Yes, of course there's the absolutely ancient crooked lady, the guitar playing hobo and the aggressive dwarf (very short person/midget/vertically challenged man/whatever) who usually hang around the area (Tim's first encounter with the latter was when he was trying to find shelter from a rain storm, and headed for one of the phone booths, only to be met by said dwarf who was having a pee in there. I think that pretty much sums up the kind of person we are talking about.)

But it feels a little bit like this is home, when you actually recognise some other people in the neighbourhood. Or have I come to that stage in life when I have seen all faces, and they all start to blend into one?

Happy Skärstordag!