It’s Tuesday morning and I’m sat on the tube with my wheelie suitcase tucked between my legs and my rucksack on my lap. I look up at a homeless man across from me, while other passengers desperately avoid his gaze.
My wallet feels unusually heavy in my pocket: I flick through the twenties, pull out a fiver and hastily hand it over before getting off.
This was the day I realised that I was just as homeless as this man, but the privileges life had given me – how I look and how I speak – meant that