The old man ambles down the block with the odd grace of those who wear another decade around their shoulders. it's not just the old straw hat or the well tailored dress jacket or the loosely fit slacks that gives it away. It's the slight slump of the shoulders one gets when letting the mind wander too far into the past. Like a blanket the body tries to evelope itself with to block out the present that they resent so much. The ugliness of the world around them. They watch their descendants resort to drugs, alcohol, and an endless sea of faceless strangers on street corners and in abandoned buildings, ineveritably becoming an active part of what they are trying so hard to forget. The young ones, they didn't choose this existence but it chose them and it sinks its claws into their hearts with the tenacity of a rabid animal.