Watched a documentary about a Japanese man who survived both A-bombs dropped in -45. He had bottled everything, all the horrific experiences of the blasts and the consequences, up till he reached the age of 90. For the family's sake. Then he began talking and writing and crying. Talking, writing, crying. I cried as well.
By the all-night petrol station a gang of self-exiled youngsters play some stupid hip-hop at top volume and it's 30 minutes past midnight. They have a tough time in an expensive Audi and fully fashionable gear.
the night is full of