The problem with being a ****** is when you come home you have fewer friends, and those friends you meet are often who were lost within themselves. One day I found myself on a park bench drinking brandy from a bottle that was passed from man to man, this struck me as a shame to have sunk so low I got up left them with the bottle had paid for and walked away, my life was not here. I left the town for England for a while it was interesting but couldn't understand the class divide, I had to find a place of peace, and I saw it in the interior of Portugal and have lived here ever since.