Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Yeshua licked the rim of the glass, satisfied with his hydration. Putting down the glass on a cramped wooden table that had the smudges of filth creeping around it, he took care not to touch anything. The arch of his back began bugging him as his cramped back seemed to contour as a river meanders. Travel to travel, bunk to bunk, his sense of comfort had never been quenched. Shifting like an agitated child, he sat upon the alligator's jaw, staring outside the window with such intent. 

Only 2 metres long and metre tall, lying sideways was his only option. His feet could poke at the glass, even though his knees were bent. He tried avoiding the sweat stains, but it was just another thought that pressed down on his shoulders. Nails untrimmed, dirt hiding beneath them, he tried to stir towards something positive. He tried to reach his arm outside his cubicle into the corridor. His closed eyes liit up in bliss. Stretching, he pulled back his hand only to collide with a walking man. The response of a most likely drunk individual was to shove it, twisting his elbow and feeling the cold metal handle of someone else's luggage collide with his unseen hand. Profusely embarrassed, he retracted his arm and wrung his wrist around his other hand. Sitting on his hands, the heat ran through his body. The nearest coatrack was a few steps down the corridor in another wardrobe, but everyone was moving about and this was the only peace he would get for a while. 

The window had failed incredibly to keep him relaxed. As the routine see-sawing of the tram jogged him like a pram down a hill, the view of empty, irradiated wasteland was displeasing. All of the nature had been full of order, a hierarchy of culture and power, destroying by egotism and violence. A tragedy that once again humans climbed out the pit of, leaving behind the Old World. Young and elderly alike, people flocked to continue the same goals they panted for centuries prior, each making the same mistake as before. But this [i]was[/i] the greatest mistake of human kind; the land that he saw was example of that. And even now, when education could leave behind the ignorance of the Old World, the cancer persists in a new form, a caricature of its old self. Even if there was the occasional wildlife out there, it was obscured by the mist that had descended over the dense viewing glass. Nature had been partitioned from man. Even as many scientists and thinkers, like himself and others, tried to walk down the tightrope of enlightenment, they feel victim to primal instincts. 

The idea was painted right in front of him. Here, with every railing, curtain, comes through the most disgusting pointless human urges of sleep, that even he obeyed. And yet, funnily enough, he believed he could do something about it. No one trained him to be like this, but this is the very nature of humanity. The universe. Everything. Doomed to loop, doomed to consume, destroy and blame, and to avoid the inevitable only to make everything worse. 

He lifted his hand, ignoring the tingling hot feeling running down his leg. 

Whistling air. Frozen time. Crash. 

He grabbed his hair irritably. 

[color=92278f]"I need a haircut."
[/color]