Intro: Boy
The copper coloured fluid swirled around in the glass and Markus stared at it with empty eyes before he lifted it to his dry lips and drowned it all. It burned in his throat and he still hadn’t got used to the strong taste. To some it was a fine drink, but to him it was just an escape. For three years now he had been consuming various alcoholic beverages to forget how good things once had been. He was still young, but he felt like and old man. He’d been through much; he’d been a hero, but now no one remembered him and that was what he was trying to forget the most.
He got up from the stuffy chair he was sitting in. Turning towards the large terrace facing south towards the desert, he started walking. His walk was that of a drunkard and before he reached the glass doors he had fallen to the floor because his legs just wouldn’t support him. And as he lay there on his hands and knees he got the feeling, through the fog of intoxication, that someone was watching him. A voice in his head told him to get up, to sober up, to stop running away. It had told him all that before, but he had had no reason to obey it. It had always been there, even back then, and he poured another glass of whiskey just in spite, because he knew that it had always been right.
FIGHTING MEMORIES
