He is alone. He feels lonely because he thinks nobody cares. But he's the one who cares nothing, that's why he's alone.

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Like him, millions of loners roam permanently, from home to work, from the street to the car, to the glow of the day or walking on blue sidewalks under gleaming neon signs.

In the tavern of desolation he drinks the most bitter wine on earth. He walks his eyes through "the newspaper", where he finds a foreign world, with news so distant that seem to happen beyond the foreigner.

Like him, millions of beings feel insignificant, helpless before the events and decisions of those who choose the future.

He thinks he's unique, as if the others were all in agreement.
He believes that loneliness is the price of his independence and takes refuge in his private intimacy.

Like him, millions of people live their life apart from a society in which they have stopped believing.

He dreams of everything he can not reach, and makes plans with the possible. He dreams that one day everything will change and he will stop being alone, because someone will come to share his dreams.

Like him, millions of dreamers expect the hurricane of time to tear down the roots of grief and hope again in the fallow.

He is alone. He feels lonely because he thinks nobody cares. But he's the one who cares nothing, that's why he's alone.