A FEATURE presentation from themanwhofellasleep:

Corridors. My life seems to have been a series of corridors. Dry concrete walls and naked lightbulbs. So many people live in the space between places. Imagine living in a corridor, mumbling and nodding as people walked past you, never looking them in the eye. Pretend you're in a hospital or waiting to see a lawyer.

As TS Eliot might have said, "In the room, the women come and go, talking of Mike and Jello."

In my dreams I am often walking down and long, dark corridor. Then I wake up to find myself in the road, my head propped against the curb, my hair wet with rain. A policeman is shining a torchlight in my eyes. I make my apologies and go home. He scowls.

I can crush a man's skull with my bare hands. But why would I want to? Because life is very long. If you're lucky. And for the less fortunate...