As a fiction writer living in Spain, I live on minimum wage and/or on the verge of bankruptcy, so I sometimes eat at a Burger King. I usually joke about "when you go to a BK as a kid, it's a victory, but when you do as an adult, it's a defeat".

I'm here right now. Around me are rioting kids with tired-looking parents, a youngster wireless-speaking cheerly while eating, lonely men rougly of my age dressed with worn-out suits and ties munching silently, a woman that looks like she's homeless (even holding a rusty supermarket cart full of bags and unrecognizable things), two well-dressed boys shouting about the problem with immigrants (probably from an expensive private school nearby) and a stunningly beautiful girl drinking a soda that looks otherwordly out of place here (like Helen when discovered on top of Troy's battlements by the greek soldier).

A Burger King is a sample of this uncertain and undescribable world we live in these days.