This man is an Artist condemned by God and imprisoned by its people not to produce art. The Artist has demons as a gift by God. In short his own inheritance cursed him and welcomes him into commerce. He must live or get his living? The motto of community life. He must choose weather to be killed slowly by his own creative potential or to earn a livelihood?

The rebel is powerless now. The slavery of 9 to 5 tear off his soul. He lost the track of time. There is no voluntarily thinking but weariness of work, work and work. He is now paid to be less than a human.

The Rat race has got best of him. How cruel reality has became for him. Tonight he is in great melancholy, he looks at his face in the mirror and hate every bit of it he is the starving artist. How he bears to live without his art?  He suddenly picks up the laptop and jot down the words with his shivering hands:

“I must write, I must put words into actions. How long I am going to put myself into chains and listen to people call my art an idle thing. I must mind my own business. I can endure hunger of food and cold but not Art. My soul burdens me every night, my imagination seduces me. I can not resist it any longer. I must say: My heart is on fire, the desires are burning, it will soon explode my body and the soul will be free to wander into the unknown.”

The artist likes to starve now. For him there is no “I”, no ego now at the workplace but “We”, “Yes Sir”, “No Sir” and at home “Yes Dad”, “Bills”, “Obedient son”, “well-Employed”. He learns not to live for himself but for others and enjoys humiliation and pain and loath at the happy moments because they delude him and he now understands there is no reality only misinterpretations. However, The words he writes are only real to him because when written they existed so do  “I” existed on a blank white page, therefore, a solitary hunger artist still lives.