He woke up to the tones of “Shy Boy”, playing at the radio. The room was starting to feel cold so he decided to get up. The sun was shining in through the curtains. It was December and a thin layer of snow could be seen on the tree-covered slopes outside. The eyes and his back was itching a little bit and it felt relieving to scratch the itchiness away. He reached for the radio, turned up the volume to almost-too-much-for-the-neighbours. He started posing in front of his mirror and couldn’t help laughing a little bit. “This day will not be so bad, after all” he said to himself. The room looked almost sterile now, since his cleaning frenzy last night. Every little piece of IKEA- and second hand 50’s furniture perfectly in order, even the candle glasses on the tea table were polished on the inside.

Standing in front of the washbasin he looked back at himself in the mirror. While waiting for the water from the faucet to get cold enough to be drinkable, he realised that the face of decadence has a certain charm. Yes, decadence was the word. Filthy, egocentric, self-inflicted decadence. The last weeks had been like living in a cave, with only his delusions as his companions. Paper notes everywhere. Random thoughts. Attempts to start a million grand things. Cigarette butts, white powder and razor blades. All the grand ideas already forgotten. But what did that matter? He felt great now. This time it would be real. No more dreams. Here he was; admiring his own image in the mirror and at the same time despising himself and his behaviour. Dark circles was showing under his eyes and the skin was pale. After drenching his face in cold water he picked up a white towel and dried it thoroughly. The phone in the other end of the room started ringing. He ignored it. He continued to admire his own image. Tomorrow would be the first day of another era in his life. He would be in Mexico at the Copacabana beach, turning tables and smoking joints. He would hear the screams of a hundred souls in exstasy. The circle completed.