the last song you’ve ever listen to, the last conversation that took until the first break of dawn, the unnoticeable look in your grandfather, the grip you hold in the neck of the bottle of beer, the friday night drunk workers, the batchmates and their indifferent futures, the longest drags of cigarettes in every corner of the streets known to man, the yearning desperations of a widow, ambitions of a drunk under a street lamp, the life you’re living, it’s counterparts and the main problem of it:
god only favors those whose lives aren’t much different than his.