Cigarette smoke slowly rises up and is spread around
by the fan as I sit at my desk, filling out damned
reports.
It's already quite dark, and from the window, through
the pouring rain, I could see the neon signs of
hotels, bars and
shops. I go to the can, and splash burning cold water
on my face. I look at myself in the mirror and black
eyes and a pale face look back.
I was always tormented by the same question, that I
speak in a hoarse, dry voice:
"Can this storyline be random?"

Cigarette smoke slowly rises up and is spread around
by the fan as I sit at my desk, filling out damned
reports.
It's already quite dark, and from the window, through
the pouring rain, I could see the neon signs of
hotels, bars and
shops. I go to the can, and splash burning cold water
on my face. I look at myself in the mirror and black

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