Finding myself in a garden of unwanted male attention, I flee to the streets where a thin and stoic girl from work passes by, protected by a cadre of girlfriends. "I am nothing," I try to tell her, "but what you want me to be." She walks on. In desolation I stumble into a steamy tunnel where I wait and wait, stooped. After wandering home to an empty room I find that it was myself that had been hungry, so I have a quesadilla and a hot shower.