Man is burdened with work. He is alone and sick. He cannot share anything with anybody. Nobody to share things with. He is just so alone and so sad. Each evening, he waits for the work to get over so that he can go home and be alone for the rest of night. He can go anywhere at night, be anyone at night. But he is just too tired. He doesn’t want anything. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want good wishes or consolations or motivation. He wants his bed and he wants some rest. His spine aches, his mouth runs dry, his eyes are hurting all the time. He knows that the morning isn’t far. It’s on the way and like a demon, it’s coming right at him. He doesn’t want to think about the morning and about work. He hates work. He wants to give up and run away to some strange land and live on bare minimum. He wants to spend time in divine company. He is tired of running and hurting. He wants to take everything slow. He is waiting. Waiting. Waiting. He is waiting for the right time to leave everything behind. How would he know that the right time has come? How? I’ve got no clue. I’m as lost as he is, probably more.
– Tomic
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