There was a secret in this man's life that gave him a brooding look, somewhere he got lost. Hope thought of the first time he won at gambling and the rush it gave him. The noise inside that windowless mausoleum reminded him of a dementia unit at dinnertime as people laughed, cried, screamed and died all for a game of dice. Strung out zombies in the big kahuna. Before this there was no gambling, he was safe, and because of that, there wasn't a need. It started when life got unsafe, that's when he decided to take risks. He got swallowed by the whale and tried to savage his way out, and all around him were the fallen angels of Shanghai. You lose your soul and buy a ticket to hell. Your life becomes a shotgun breakfast. Hope remembered his friend who told him, junkies never take holidays. Why he'd sell his own mother for one last crack at the prize. He wondered why the Casino had no prayer room because he saw people on their knees begging for a win . It was the full catastrophe as the clock chased midnight. Outside the young were making out by the Yarra and the river was alive with serpent rainbows from a greater God. Inside Hope sat numb, losing it all, detached like a Buddha, and all around was this terrific noise.