You opt for the quick fix wardrobe around the corner, in a blind alley. Your toes poke out from your once shined footwear, you recall the numerous suits you used to own.
Today, however, is not a day for dressing up. You reach the dumpster. It looks like it used to be a bright yellow, but now it's grubby, hidden, full of all sorts of weird crap and junk.
People dump whatever they like here. A broken chair, a bag of dead flowers, boxes of rotten fruit, plastic packaging, general gunk and unwholesomeness.
You spot a particularly nice waistcoat, which, once brushed clean of banana skins and old fingernails will be, you feel, a rather snazzy item.
Next to this is a crumpled pizza box. You lift the lid. Result. You inhale the two remaining slices, both of which are rather dubious in colour, but nonetheless still pizza.
Your pants are chafing your legs. You feel you have come to a crossroads of sorts.
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