I watch this woman. and I recognise her. and it strikes me as mad. We're two normal-looking tired adults, about to hit fifty, couple of kids each, nothing to notice if you weren't looking for it. But we've both been there. We've both gone through a couple of the worst childhoods you could have. I bet we both have the same kind of nightmares, and the same reaction when we walk into small rooms, and the same scars on our bodies. I bet she had the same problems with getting naked for her partners as an adult. I bet she's not religious. I bet she holds her kids too tight when she hugs them, and I bet she hasn't told them why. and either of us could blend so easily into any crowd, but if we saw each other for a second, we could probably read the last forty years of each other's lives. and I wonder how many of us there are, how many thousands of people sitting in parks, or working in offices. That's all I'm left with, after seeing her - what are the numbers? Who else knows? Just how many of us are there?'