Walking on these fields of tin foils for the crunch, it's satisfying, ain't it? Yeah, I've been doing my whole life with no shoes on. It hurts and my feet bleeds but I love it as much as the next fucker would.

It's 3.08pm and nothing is getting done. So, walk on. Because they put you in a tiny air-tight box and tell you to be creative. After, they stack you up in a tiny cabinet and dispose your box of comfort. To their convenience, they pull you out when they are dry and after they have finished using you for the day, you are back in storage. Nothing more than the flavour of the day. And you live on, in that overcrowded suffocating cabinet, waiting to be picked the next day again.

There comes a time when people lose. Everyone loses something or someone. Some people lose everything and everyone. Kings lose queens and queens lose wars. Boys lose girls and girls lose girls. History serves us proof, but I am rewriting it to my fancy. But it is evident that I am starting to lose my words.

And I welcome you to watch my fall.