The walk from my backpackers home in Sydney’s King’s Cross to the Matthew Talbot Hostel for homeless men in Woolloomooloo during the early eighties was colourful to say the least. On stepping out the door at 8 am during the first couple of weeks of my new job, I was surprised to see the used syringes lying on the pavement, ladies of the night still lounging on street corners offering different prices for the various services  … 

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