With effort she lifts her tired head and attempts to catch someone’s eye but all she can see are legs. Manly legs in trousers, hidden legs covered by skirts, boyish legs in shorts and sandals, feminine legs in fish-net stockings supported by stilettos and topped by mini skirts, legs, legs, legs, all racing past.

She holds out her hand. It is small, slightly soiled and shivering. Still nobody notices. Thump-thomp go the manly shoes, flip-flap go the sandals, click-cleck go the high heels on the marble floor reflecting the tragic dirty figure. Festinating, flitting and trotting to their destinations.

Tears stream down down her grimy face, leaving clean trails on her cheeks. Silently she screams at the masses look at me please just look and help

A elderly man bends down and presses some coins into her shaking palm. Gratefully she nods then looks at the gift. She curls her hand into a fist then sinks back sobbing. How am I going to feed my family with Nepalese Rupees?