this house is full of stories. it took decades to get this many pictures on the wall. we all exist together under this roof. but at night, we're all somewhere else. everyone coughs from one too many cigarettes. swallows always find their way back home. i wonder how many pictures line this wall.

in every day, there is a short span of time. a tiny corner only a certain kind of man knows of. he will sit alone in a dark room, smoking a cigarette or maybe finishing off last night's bottle. the rest of the world is a sleeping giant. it knows nothing of this corner or what happens here. soon the man will have to leave his empty bed & face the giant. it will do to him as it pleases. but the man will have hope. his corner awaits him.