At 6:25am I was already in London surrounded by tall buildings and fumes emerging from the few cars that were passing me by on the side of the street. As car after car passed by I floated into the air, higher and higher, I could see insides of apartments through the double glazed windows. I could see people sleeping peacefully in their beds, not worrying about a thing, not wondering what their boss might want from them or what they might have on their toast this morning. They are buried in a metamorphosis which becomes a heaven until they wake a few minutes later that morning. When there are no cars passing by for a few minutes I lay on the concrete wondering who it was that invented the sewage system and thought it to be a good idea to have holes on the side of the road so that rain water could run in there. I believe the world is full of ingenuous people such as that person. A white lorry with Sainsbury's written in orange on it passes at what I can only say was over the speed limit and I fly around in the air until I become dizzy and land on the corner of grass by the newsagents shop which just had it's milk and bread delivered by an old beardy man. Seems strange, I would have expected to see men like that in a farm working amongst sheep using old farming methods and having a red and white chest table cloth in a miniature house and eating apple pie which was made by his wife who resembles one of the nice grannies in those children's books. All round and plump, healthy and happy. Well in really that is not like it at all. Most grannies I've met here and there are irritable and hungry looking. Crooked backs and grey coloured clothes. The doors of the shop and its windows seem shabby. The few 'alive' shutters are decorated well with skilful hands of those who can graffiti names such as 'bzig' on them. I personally think it's beautiful. They usually use lots of bright colours and bold letters. Their efforts go unappreciated as the council clean the phone boxes all the time. The shop will open soon, if I stay here for long enough I might get a glimpse of some early birds going to work in west end and buying the newspaper on the way. Although being at an underground or a railway station this early in the morning would be a much more appealing thought. The concrete by the shop is all cracked and uneven, lots of different coloured chewing gums, I thought I could smell apple flavoured one just a second ago. The concrete isn't smooth, one of those with lots of sand and small stones in it, wouldn't be much fun to roller blade on it am guessing. I hate it, always prefer to stay in the air, perhaps when the wind is stronger, but for now am staying right here. Dogs always bug me, the peeing and the pooping everywhere, good gracious me, not much fun at all. Here comes one now real cutie, soft golden fur cute brown eyes, the lot. I would like them, really would do if not their animal instincts. Saw one once pee right on a polished black shoe of a suited man in Soho, felt sorry for the dog as the bastard started shouting. Have nothing against suited people, really I don't, just the fact that they all seem exactly one and the same to me. That's why I thing they chose to wear different coloured ones suits I mean. To distinguish themselves from one another because otherwise everyone would be Mick or Nick or Laura or Nora.

My life started quickly and un-painfully, come out of a hole in which I would have loved to stay because it was so warm and I had loads of friends. But you see, creatures like us have short lives, which should be lived fulfilfully (if such word exists). I believe I have lived my life so and seen more than any of you ever will. That might have sounded like an attack, but it wasn't, honestly. You are not to blame, you are busy, you can not take notice of the ones who are like me and you can not notice little things I've mentioned above. You are in a rush to get to work, you are too busy to stop and look and you run across the street with the cars beeping. Who cares you didn't see the driver and never will. A fat man passes by you and all you could think of as he does is how annoying it is that he takes up so much of the pavement's space. And a posh beauty queen passes by you and you become angry for a second and feel inadequate, but keep walking, there's nothing else to do. (That only goes for you if you are not actually the beauty queen who passed by). You cross yet another street and Secretor mini bus stops right by your side and do you wonder who is sitting behind those darkened windows, do you even care? Do you think that 10 murderers could be there who stabbed their parents or killed their little sister, do you wonder why, do you care? No you don't, you are busy you rush by it and all you can hear is your expensive shoes making systematic noises on the concrete. I fly by your feet and look up, but you don't see me, you never see me, if there is one thing in this world you never ever see it is me. And you step on me, you step on my sleeve and my life is short lived because of you. You caused me to stay in that one position not being able to move for a few second while you waited for the green man to flash so you could cross the road. While you were waiting did you know that I couldn't move and I wanted to because I was hearing that noise? No you didn't because you never see me. You heard that noise and felt proud to live in a clean city. You moved your feet and it was all too late for me to get out because while you stood on me the wind blew and when you moved, it did no more and the noise was becoming clearer. More loud I could hear it so well now, it was hearting my ears and that's when I knew it was the end for me. I spend my last few living second underneath the sole of your expensive shoe and I felt my light weight being sucked up into a hole, isn't it ironic that our kind die the same way they are born. And as I travel into the dark and scary big hole I feel my body being shred into pieces and I slowly die, knowing that I will come back in a million of new ones of my kind, the kind which also will spend some time under the dirty sole of your shoe, the kind who you take for granted, the kind who after use are called rubbish. My name was 'Walkers' packaging and I was the rubbish you murdered today.