He wakes up late. He slips into the clothes from the night before. There is no time for breakfast for showering for teeth brushing. He is caught in the thick traffic oozing like tar along the roads reeking of the morning crisis that he usually misses. He feels himself imploding as he rides the elevator. There he feels himself in the room so safe and comfortable that judders it’s slowly journey upwards but four floors away is coffee. A man talks about Climate Change economics on the bus but he barely listens because he is still reading Plato and understanding little and disagreeing with what little he does understand. The day stretches out in coffee breaks and shuddering self-loathing. Explosions, Marines pissing on corpses and children drawing self-portraits make up the bulk of his day. There is nothing to be done with this information except funnel it through consciousness letting it drool out the side of his mouth. He goes to sleep.