Trafalgar Sunset, fire drakes in The Strand ...

It was late afternoon by the time I reached Trafalgar Square - I glanced at my watch, hanging from my wrist - it was almost four thirty - I felt each second of my life flicker over my skin like a tiny insect - 

As I'd walked down Charing Cross Road, I passed a young foreign woman, kneeling on the pavement - her thin body looks as though it has been fashioned out of wire - 

There was a bit of cardboard on the pavement before her - on it was written, in spidery copperplate - three children - no food - no job - no home - 

Glossy Brazilian girls crossed the road in a perfumed gang, sashaying towards the Hippodrome - black taxi cabs drove past - icy air nipped my ears - 

As twilight fell, a feverish glamour transformed the city - all my senses seemed enhanced - the words of strangers rang in my ears - the scent of spilled ales in The Porcupine made me dizzy - neon signs were like bright corals - 

I looked up to see a murderous sky - above Trafalgar Square, I could see the end of the world - the clouds were like glowing coals, the bed of some celestial furnace - 

I thought of John Martin's vast paintings - any moment, I was sure, I'd see an angel - a fiery blast would topple Nelson's Column - fire drakes would blaze in The Strand -