Phil Collins blares out of a riverside apartment

it's wet and cold outside. As the rain soaked into the concrete fa?ade of the river end and created puddles of dank water below, the boy pondered his own existence. The symmetry between such a bland picture outside and his own life was stark. He closed his net curtains, turned off Phil?s monotonous drones, put on his dirty white trainers, and ambled to work.

I could continue, but I think people get the point.

Posted By: nasty piece of work, Apr 25, 12:54:10