Telford Hall

Sleeping in the palace of dreams made me realise something. Money is just that. Money. A piece of paper that represents nothing in society other than control and obediance. When I pay almsot 5 grand for a pod with black mould beds and cockroach-halogen hybrid lamps, I dont care about it. A room is a room, who cares that my neighbour doesnt clean the dishes, who cares that the toilet seat had streaks that would make the rare breed of a snapchat streaker jealous, money in the end is nothing, and I dont need to be obliged to follow its rules. Charge me 6k, 7k or even 9k a year, and I will gladly come back, again and again.