Just as I left the Tube station at Camden, my ears danced on the various snippets of conversation of the people who moved about their daily routine. They all seemed to know who they were, what they were saying, what life was about. Determined, strong-said and bountiful with existence but dead inside all at the same time. Little snippets. I need to include little snippets of conversations that the people had as they went this way and that in the bowl of human soup that was the entrance to the Underground.