There's a city, moving around me with five hundred thousand people in it you could meet one hundred every day and it would take you fourteen years to shake that many hands
On my street, now glowing outside I visit the shops every day and wordlessly buy anaesthetising food. I consume it alone I do not know the names of the staff only the tiredness on their faces
In my block, of dingy flats there must be at least a thousand other humans. Every single one a contained life. I hear them sometimes in the walls
Four years. That's how long it's been now and I do not know my neighbours we walk past with our heads down and watch television to replace feelings of emptiness. All fearful of the same things all bound for the same end. Why don't we say anything? In trying to remember some common humanity tomorrow I will say