To my left are shelves full of bread. Olive, brown and white sourdough - bubbled and crisp like sunburnt skin. There is a pigeon nodding along in search of crumbs. Flakes of pastries scatter the floor, falling like dandruff on jeans, on shoes. They are still serving in takeaway cups. Earl grey to take away but sit in and suck up the tea stains on cardboard. How muggy - no mugs. The lid is turned upside down, patterned with spots of moisture like bathroom mould.