There's a junkie who lives or hangs out near my work. I often see him on my way home, gesticulating to the sky/talking to God, taking photos of random things with a mobile phone, dancing and skipping along to his own beat. He's often wearing only jeans, which hang dangerously low on his hips, exposing the creases that go diagonally down from the hip to between the legs on skinny men's bodies.
A few weeks ago, I was having a lunch-time catch up with my boss outside the tea room on the 5th floor of my building. I was looking outwards, over her shoulder, where I could see junkie-guy doing the most intense dance ever on the top of a nearby multi-storey car park. You know, a re-enacting Flashdance kind or dance. It was quite distracting.
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