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Clive. I stopped to sit and speak with Clive. He's sober. The girl curled up next to him, face covered by the blanket they share murmurs as he fidgets exposing a face full of sores. I'm told by Clive that he's watching out for her while her fella grifts for food. Clive's a former social worker. He tells me of a guy in his care whose liver exploded and blood gushed from mouth as life passed. Right before him. Clive's words are a book of blood. Faith, the devil. Self defence - at what point a quiet man must stand up for himself. How Bristol is cold (it is tonight) and cold hearted - he wants to leave this place

Clive. I stopped to sit and speak with Clive. He’s sober. The girl curled up next to him, face covered by the blanket they share murmurs as he fidgets exposing a face full of sores. I’m told by Clive that he’s watching out for her while her fella grifts for food. Clive’s a former social worker. He tells me of a guy in his care whose liver exploded and blood gushed from mouth as life passed. Right before him. Clive’s words are a book of blood. Faith, the devil. Self defence – at what point a quiet man must stand up for himself. How Bristol is cold (it is tonight) and cold hearted – he wants to leave this place

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