Walking home tonight. I walk down the road, the sun setting and a slight spring chill in the air. I walk with purpose, with false authority, in quick strides. I walk and I walk past the disused monument to inner city Brutalism that is the Heygate Estate. Even the dandelions look tarnished. I look to my left and two grown men, stand, solemnly, as if they are present at a respected neighbour's funeral. They are watching their two scrawny dogs fuck each other, in clear view of a busy A-road. It was a strange sight for a Thursday evening.