Sometimes your brain makes a snap judgement of a situation and spurs you into action without much time for analysis or forethought.
All I saw was a woman, standing in the middle of the pavement on Bayswater Road, with her pants around her ankles. She was standing in a puddle that had clearly just emitted from her own self. My immediate thought was that she was pregnant, and that her water had broken, right then and there, in the middle of the sidewalk, and she was moments away from giving birth. I didn't visually take in any other details.
Panicked, I leapt forward, full of concern, my mind flashing with visions of just what the hell I was going to do: hail a cab and get her to a hospital? try and get her into the nearby hotel? assist with delivery right there on the spot? where could I find a hot towel? what do people even DO with hot towels? why was no one else helping her?
"Are you alright?"
"Gaeroff!" the lady screamed and turned to face me as I lay my hand on her shoulder. Her face was wrinkled and dirty. There was vomit all over her sweater, and her chin. She had plastic bags wrapped around her feet. She wasn't pregnant- she was just an insane old lady, and had decided to take a piss in the street. I recoiled, but still wanted to help her, somehow.
"Are you okay? Can I help you?"
"GAERROFF!!!" she screamed, and took a menacing step towards me, her hand curled like a claw, her track pants still around her ankles. Her eyes had aun unreal, glassy look, as if she could only vaguely see me.
I retreated some more, then turned and walked away. What could I do? I was stunned at the speed at which my concern had turned to revulsion. So she wasn't pregnant, so what? She obviously still needed help. I struggled to think how I could have helped her. Is there no-one out there to help her?
I wondered what her name was. Did she still know what it was? Did she have a family? Did they know that this was how she lived? Did she have friends? What was she like when she was young? Did she ever suspect this would be how she would end up? Where did she sleep? How could anyone possibly survive the winter in London without anywhere to sleep?
My eyes started to brim with tears. I swallowed and blinked, looked at the sky, choked the tears back down. I wondered what happened to that fluid that was about to come out of my eyes. Did it just return to my tear ducts, ready to come out at some other time, or was it recirculated into my system, little droplets of sadness, flowing through my veins.
This is a 