As a filmmaker, I've always been curious to hear people's stories. Everybody has a story to tell and the first thing I often wonder when I meet someone is what theirs is. This was the case with Naomi, the young woman whose experience sleeping rough on the streets of London inspired the story for my latest film, A Horse Called Oz.
We are kicking our kids out; we are turning our backs on them and rejecting the builders of the future mainly because we could not understand their sexual orientation or gender identity. Homelessness creates a state of vulnerability for these young people and makes them easy prey for malicious adults.
The World War One Centenary is a time to reflect one of the biggest wastes of human lives in the 20th Century. Why it happened, the lives it destroyed and how future wars can be averted are important lessons for our age. The ceramic poppies at the tower of London - 888,246 of them, each representing an extinguished human life - formed the centre of many moving tributes across the country.
Someone who has been sleeping rough for years might read a book that suddenly gives him or her an idea for a way out of the circumstances they're faced with. They might read about a situation somewhere in the world and find their new passion through it. Or they might even decide that the words they've read are so inspiring, they want to get back on their feet so they can inspire people in their own way.
The world can feel like a scary place for any young person striding out on their own for the first time. Thrust into a world of greatly increased responsibility, the transition to adulthood is a challenging time. For most young people there is a support network to help them through this period. They fall back on the support of their family and friends; they learn and adapt. However, for young people leaving the care system this support is sadly often limited or non-existent. All too frequently they are left to fend for themselves without the necessary skills or even a suitable place to live.
The following morning, the day of Catalina's funeral, it was the turn of Bruce Lee - the self-styled "King of the Sewers". Never shy of a spectacle, he arrived barefoot with his head painted in Aurolac, a luminous helmet of bright silver paint that the addicts sniff. A stark reminder of the crazed drug-infested atmosphere where Catalina had died.
So far no one seems to know exactly who installed these spikes, but whoever it was ought to be congratulated on artistic grounds, if nothing else. Because what they have done, however inadvertently, is produce a haunting symbol of the institutionalised amorality and social cruelty that defines our era.