What can I possibly say?

Strange conversations sound clear when whispered in the dark. But how would one be expected to reply to something so absurd, especially while retaining their dignity.

You would be better off yelling down an old underground tunnel, where the remains of a neglected generation ply themselves with 15secs of instant gratification, and ask them for next weeks lottery numbers. So you can buy the 10k watch you have always wanted since you saw that ad last week and felt that it summed you up as a person.

Maybe life would be clearer then and you could pick yourself up and decide easily what brand of shoes to wear tomorrow, what to pack for lunch, what expensive all inclusive holiday you could book without spending 18 months paying it up. You might even drop a pound in a homeless person's cup because your life is feeling good again. And think, just think what they could do with that pound.

But you get up and close the window, not because it's cold. It's actually rather stuffy but there is too much noise murmuring in through the room and echoing off the Jason Padlock painting in the corner. You are finding it hard to think yourself to sleep, about how one day you will save the world. But the light stays on, the darkness is scary, especially when you are in a new city.