It is mornimng. Jesus Christ. What the fuck happened to you? Wherein lies Adonis? The double-chin, the flaps of fat. I'm thinking any twenty-something looking for a little maturity for breakfast will need a shit-tonne of charisma to offset this. The dirty rain trailing workmen's fingers down the defeated pane. And yet...and yet...there is work to be done here. Certain angles catch that raffish look in the eyes, still not quite hosed down.