Developing a Character. . . 
During lunch i found a setting and real one, and make notes which i then used to produce this piece of writing below . . . 

Solitary steps, alone, silenced and unseen. Though the day thousands travel along them unaware of each crevis and bump.

I am alone. I am constantly unnoticed by passer bys. Every aspect of every culture of the world touches me, they have walked all over my body. They step, stomp, tip toe, bounce, hurry their way across my surface. I feel pain when they abuse me, but at least I feel something. They scuff my edges, I’m now battered and bruised. Imprints are left in me, a constant reminder of everything I have seen and been apart of. I am a gateway to their future and they don’t even notice. I live and breath and they don’t care. I sit and observe every type of human behavior, analyzing every individual, judging them as they pass. First a PVC red knee high Doc Martin stomping around, a statement shoe, screaming out for individuality, someone who wants to be heard, the sole journeys across many a field, festival fighting for freedom. Part of a protest held at the foot of my mouth. Angry civilians changing history waving their red revolution flags in a bid to be noticed and heard.

I see cruelty everyday these students continue to fight. Fighting for their right, no matter how hard it may get they still come willing, prepared to sacrifice what they believe in.

Humans are complex beings, I still don’t understand their complex minds even after thousands of hours striving to grasp their core, second-guessing their moves. Alone I keep myself sane by viewing their hectic everyday lives.

An undesirable man, old, scruffy coat with a second hand pair of collapsing shoes, helping the typical geek, alone in the dark during a mugging. 4m the perfect role model throwing up all over my edge.

I see horror, I see great love.

Passer bys will never understand how I feel, how I long for them to notice me, for them to understand that I am the gateway to their future, through me they have a chance to be truly great.

Yet still they litter, leaving fallen crumbs from the 69p meat and potatoes pasty, half a strand of red pepper, a drop of juice spilt from a over energetic wave. Someway or another it will all be washed away, by the birds or the late night homeless man desperate for anything to eat. Or even trodden into the soles of your shoes, carried away to wards to rest of your life.

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here are my original notes >>>