Isolation, Hr 4:
This guy is back from a long session of 'looking about'. Biting the cold. Straining his eyes to cut through the dense fog.
Subterranean roads - populated with hawkers returning home and cab drivers, - random streets, loops, the left-turn stratagem (in US it translates to the right instead of the left), the traveling salesman's problem. The prospects of learning fluid dynamics lie in ruin - however that doesn't hamper his ambitious postgraduate plans. The realisation of this recently-concluded pointless activity (one that also puts a guilt of ~10km of fuel consumption) sends him into a loony crackling laughter.
Some tea for comfort.
Now that the snakes have been silenced, the madman on the streets no longer troubles him, the girls don't demand his attention for their dirty politics, and no Kareena Kapoor prances around, he can compensate for a lot of inaction over the weekend. He shudders thinking of the forthcoming weekend, where he's clearly going mental one way or the other - he shudders thinking about himself the way he is thinking; but he also shudders thinking about others the way he sees them, as he shudders seeing himself in that similar image.
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