twenty-third of december evening - someone smokes a cigarette and cries their eyes out on the balcony of the house they grew up in. the town looks almost the same, so little has changed. new houses, big houses, were built, with big backyards. in the old houses, only the dogs are new. they bark and bark and won't shut up every time someone walks by. it is unbearable. the sun sets over the hills. silence.

they think "I should have not bought a flight this year. should have stayed home. went travelling. meet some new places. take a couple photographs. what am I doing here in this forsaken corner of the world?".

a few houses up the street, someone is changing a flat car tire. they think, okay. life could be worse. they go back inside. someone is fighting, again. the dogs are barking. Christmas sucks. 

but it could be worse. of course it could be worse.