Late in autumn

The whisky from the glass on the office, the cigar, the music, the computer… the daily drugs of a common life, or the supreme pleasure of a simple life?

Now, it’s late in autumn. The cold wind of the empty space. My space. My feelings. My pain. The Time pain. Alone in the middle of the friends. Lens that focus the emptiness. Living drugs.

The fight is the remedy. The victory is a drug, the defeat is a drug. The fight. Endless fight.

Or, the Love.

Fight, or Love.

No alternative.