One winter.. I was walking in Central London. Leicester Square for those who know where that is.. Someone calls my name.. I turn around and see a dishevelled young man… who needed to be soaked and then scrubbed down. Overgrown dirty nails- the kind that’d germinate beans.. He didn’t smell good. I stopped to talk to him. I used to listen to you with my dad on the way to school, he said. So he was young. Early 20s. He looked mid 30s. We found a spot. Talked. And talked. Good kid. Good family. He was sent abroad to study but fell off the grid. Alcohol and drugs. Especially drugs, did a number on him. The weight of his struggles weighed heavily. He wanted to go home. Didn’t know how. He’d lived a sheltered life and the first time he left home was to attend university in London. That’s a huge ask. Not impossible. But huge. When he fell off, he had no where to go. These kids you send abroad to study must be reminded that they can return home anytime should things fail. Long story short, made it back home and he’s now thriving. Like many others, he just wanted - and probably needed- to be home.