I sat there, watching them. One by one. Each one was unique, except for the fact that they were trying to escape from something. I wondered about what had happened to each one of them. We all have our personal tragedies, granted some are worse than others, but we all have suffered at some point. In that sense we are the kindred, we are the poor, we are the people that need to something (whether it be cigarettes, drugs, . , or food) to escape and feel better. I’m siting here half and half stoned. It feels good to escape. I haven ‘t felt this numb in years… it feels great. I can sit back and forget about everything for a little while.

I am able to step back and analyze things from a detached perspective.

On this day..