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From my seat at the cafe, I hear the steady chink-chink of a coin against an enamel plate. A blind beggar sits by the pharmacy, shaking a battered Kango dish rhythmically. The number plate on the plush burgundy Toyota in the parking lot a few metres reads "CHIXIE." There were zebras in Plantation Drive this morning, making me late on the school run. Two of them, ambling along as if they owned the place.