The light seems strangely bright as I emerge into the street. Squinting up at the grey clouds I wonder how normal people manage to achieve anything in such light with every action open and visible and naked. I know what job I have to do, and want to get it over and done with as soon as possible, so set off through the streets.

As I walk down the familiar cobbles, I am surprised at the number and variety of people around. The colours of their clothing, though predominantly black, are interspersed with bright reds and blues and greens. Rich and vibrant, there is a real feel of life in the streets that is not there at night. Almost without noticing, I start to stand more upright from my habitual crouch, and my pace slackens as I start to feel more comfortable in the exposure of daylight. With so many people, and so much vitality around, I start to feel more at home. It occurs to me that the light is as good at concealing as is the dark. Why, if a man so wanted, he could do almost anything in these streets, and the bustle would hide it from view. And such pickings!

But I have a job to do, and set to it, forgoing all temptation.