The night doesn’t so much pass as drag itself away, and then the dawn breaks. The city stirs and comes to life again like a human heart after CPR. Cold, harsh sunlight crawls across the concrete walkways and pulls itself up the walls of the buildings, brick by brick, before taking to the air and trying valiantly to take control of the skies. A stubby blue and grey office block sits uncomfortably amidst its newer and taller brethren. Midway up the north side of it is a window – the only one with any life in it. A man looks out from it and onto this grey and unforgiving landscape. High above the buildings, straggly rainclouds race into the sky in order to take their positions like second-rate extras on a film set; the largest ones go to the back, and the smaller ones group together at the fr
