He lay, curtains closed the sound of traffic growing louder the day begining. Began for what? The night left him so tired confused and as always alone. The sounds therapeutic in a way, yet none the less irritating. Maginalised, such a good word he thought, playing the days back on the third eye screen. Always black and white. Each time replayed in more detail but less clarity of why. Eyes open the curtains have two shades, the sun begining to light the room. Tupence less the wiser and no longer a penny left.... for thoughts of anything.