"today we trudge through tourists and taxis with black plastic and boxes full of bottles. everyone is staring at the strange girl with the badly mended pants, until we pass over the train tracked class line, and no one is paying attention. we are following the well trod path to the bottle return place. green privacy fence, junkies teetering out front, and old ladies filling the grungy blue shopping baskets with someone else's good time. the junkies, toothless and grinning, remain in their circle rolling cigarettes and getting sideways glances from the other bottle collectors. one guy sits and stands, sits and stands, as we are all lining up, sorting our bounty, sizing up our piles, a little over two kroons for one woman ahead of us. stale beer hovers over the room in a fog of sweat and piss. the sounds of plastic crackling, cans crunching, and bottles clanking together. cutting waves though the stench. waiting."