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The fall of raindrops on the sheet-metal roof of the van makes a soft plink-plink sound, like tiny pebbles falling from the sky, and inside the foggy tinted windows is a man at peace.

It's a cold and dismal night outside my green Econoline cocoon. Inside, it's dim. Just enough light to finish this book. The dog yawns and so do I. I close my book and switch off the light.

The rain still pelts against the roof. The dog is sleeping. Electric lifeblood courses through the copper veins of my mobile shelter, fed by an outlet at the base of a burnt-out lightpost. Nobody will bother me here.

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