Off the road from Slough to Windsor to the west of London, behind a billboard for Furniture Village and under the stars, is Zdzistaw Karczynski's home. His shelter lacks the fat beige sofa and soft carpet in the poster above him, but it is tidy enough: a single bed tucked under wooden struts against a park wall; an anorak drying on the line; a pot and a little cook-stove ready for action; and, at a distance, a pile of unholy-looking rubbish topped by an eviscerated mattress.
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