Everything was in a haze. The other day he had gone out with some people he knew and had sat quiet through a lengthy conversation about appartments and landlords and rents before leaving early. All the exclamatory remarks and compliments on low prices and great numbers of square metres, together with exaggerated approval and encouragement in one issue or another across shiny woodboards holding numerous glasses of mediocre beer- it choked him in boredom and loneliness, and reeked of pretense. "This is it- youth," he thought walking down a dark and narrow street, past brick walls and shady entrances, hoping there'd be a train station somewhere in a few dozen metres. The whole world suddenly had a tilt-shift effect to it, everything was so small and unimportant and disgusting. He shuddered. Young people came together and had nothing better to discuss than issues of housing, in the most biedermeier way possible. He found it slightly difficult to breathe and that feeling didn't pass when he entered a train, avoiding everyone's eyes in the neon light, and ducking away into the corner of an almost empty compartment. He wasn't any better though- he was a goddamn coward. He had sat there and stared at his coffee. He hadn't asked anyone to tell about the last book they read and thought was significant, or special. He hadn't suggested to change the topic to what everyone's biggest dream was. He hadn't suggested to change the topic at all, even though he could have. He had just smiled politely when he'd felt addressed and answered a few question. He had practised invisibility and then disappeared completely.