redemption 0.1

He looks out the window into the street, blowing the cigarette smoke upwards into the black sky. Frost has taken over the city and everything is still, even the people walking seem still. Their steps are programmed, they've been planned for centuries to avoid unexpected situations. There's no space for unpredictable events, no music in their shoes. He turns around, disappointed, thinking that the best thing humans have is being wasted in those stubborn steps. His room is a shelter from this coldness of acts but he knows he can't hide for long. The theater of cheery voices, music, joy is fading away in his own head. It might be contagious he thinks, but there's no doctor to cure this condition. These sins have been spreading their branches for far too long. No medicine, no drug, no whiskey is going to cure this. He finds redemption in his writings...


It's hard to be human and even harder to be human amongst other humans. Conceptions of right and wrong are overrated, we're all too demanding. A step into the streets is a step into the biggest of all freezers. Isolation happens mostly in cold cities, commodities are there to make it easier. "Leave me alone" is the message written across people's foreheads. I thought we had something more to give, something warmer, something chemical. No music plays when people talk, they all sound like computerized machines programmed to speak. What happened to poetry? What happened to joy?

What happened to humans?