"I can hear her. Her voice is faint, but it's still there. She's calling me."
The city in the night always depresses me. Everything and everyone painted in black and white, and the moon upon us, pale and scarred, a daily reminder of our god's feelings for our failure.
The other cars are passing us by and I can only wonder where are they all rushing to. My friend doesn't get carried away and drives the car nice and smoothly to reach our destination in comfort.
This playlist we are listening to contains some heavy metal music, which is, if you are asking me, fitting perfect after a boring day to work to get back to your senses.
When we stop at a traffic light he turns down the volume so we can speak.
"Everytime I listen to these songs I feel really good for being raised like that. With these kind of morals I mean. It has nothing to do with all these hipster anti-establishment bullshit. I'm talking about values, like family, friendship, relationships, work ethics... Most of the people in our city are money-centric. If something can't be priced, then it has no value. I feel more angry than sorry towards them. It's something like that german philosopher said, they are allowing their own spiritual rape and they seem quite fine with it. And that's the reason I am angry, cause they rather do nothing than to attempt to change."
The traffic light turns green and we start moving again. I look outside the window and I see all the shoping stores and their blinding lights, some bimbo girls wasted outside a club, a bunch of dudes trying to talk their way with some prostitudes to get them a better price.
"Everyone fears death", I tell him, "and by buying things make us believe that we can also buy life. Immortality. You can't buy a way out no matter how much you postpone it. What if you are 60 and look like 40? Will it make you live longer? Will it get you closer to heaven? Will an expensive computer buy you knowledge? Or will a well paid job buy you dignity? I know that we have the potential to understand everything but we are too far from that, trapped in this concrete jungle, where noone seems to care if the hooker that he buys is just sex, not love. Noone cares. They don't seem to need emotions. Sadly..."
We keep going silent, not turning the music up. I get out the pack of my smokes to light one. I offer him one also but he refuses.
"Come on now, light up that smoke. Stop trying to live for ever."
He laughs and takes it saying that I play dirty.
When he dropped me at my home I had the strong feeling that I will spend all night tormenting my mind with these thoughts, but exhaustion got me first.
In my dreams, at least, I can breath free air and see free skies, and everytime I wake up violently I only think of ways trying to make my dreams come true.