It's late. In the road, there is the raucous sound of drunks leaving or being thrown from the bars.
One by one, lights wink out from the windows of takeaways and restaurants, and bit by bit, late-night diners and revellers vanish from the street.
To the rear of the restaurants and cafes, there is clanging and clattering from the kitchens, which gradually dies down. Eventually, this turns to the rattle of closing shutters and the snap of bolts being drawn into place.
As all falls dark and silent, a figure emerges. Standing silently, looking right and left before moving far from the shadows, she makes her way to the rear of one of the restaurants.
Showing every sign of knowing where she is, familiar with the route and the lack of gates or bars, she lifts the lid from one trash can after
