Slamming on my brakes, I slowly wobbled my bike around the mass of pushchairs, school kids and wide-eyed dogs waiting at a temporary bus stop. Right in the middle of the bike lane.
Then, zig-zagging my way around parked cars, the open doors of delivery vans, loading bays, and even giant copper planters full of dead plants, cigarette butts and dried up vomit, I tried to recall the last time I breathed. I’d taken breathing for granted, I thought.
