These empty streets seem to mirror our lonely lives and dreaming becomes imperative. Fantasy overwhelms as reality slides and I seriously considering burning the lot. And at that moment on the threshold of sanity I was stung. Every pitiful excuse plagued me as my throat began to narrow. I slumped in front of an onyx display and croaked the syllable ‘help’, I even purred the word probably for dramatic effect and definitely demanding attention but alas I had no wi-fi to broadcast my tragedy. And as I plunged into nothingness, I counted my ten possessions and could only picture my blocked sink.