A man lies face down on a brown carpet floor, his face obscured. He's in one of those cheap roadside motels. I know who he is, no doubt. For a moment the thought that he might be dead crosses my mind, but he gets up, looks into a mirror, and proceeds to live the day as he normally does, on auto pilot, in apathy, as if the universe is indifferent...
...And then it happens again, but to another man I know, not unlike the first. The circumstances are never explained. Why this repeating motif? Drifter, nomad, hack, survivor, the rolling stone and his hat...I know this man.
