
Outside Bethnal Green station on Saturday afternoon, a man sidled up to me. “Are you Gregorios?,” he said, glancing around furtively. He seemed nervous, and yet also there was also malice in his eyes, a memory of cruelty. He seemed Eastern European – Belarussian, I later decided, preposterously. The sun shone hazily. Time dragged. I realised I'd been loitering suggestively. I wanted badly to say yes, yes I am Gregorios: just to see what happened next, to see who Gregorios was. But I didn't dare. “No I'm not,” I replied, gently. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” he smiled, a gold tooth glinting. He shuffled away, and when I turned around a few seconds later [...]