There are some versions of my life that I can easily imagine in detail. It's not something I could really want for myself. I guess these are just vivid images from films or series.
The first one is a Russian long-distance truck driver. I spend days on the road, dining in cheap cafes and sleeping in my truck. I'm sitting up there, looking down at the cars around. My old t-shirt has ridden up, exposing my pot belly. Everyone calls me Stepanych or something like that. Good, down-to-earth type. This fantasy is bewildering, because I'm afraid of the idea of me driving.
Another one is of me living in a trailer park in a warm US state. I work either in a video rental shop or in a supermarket, scanning items. Sometimes I sit outside my trailer and watch people. I'm probably called Jo. I could be male or female. It won't matter much.
Also, there is an intern in a British company. Sleek-named and skinny. I make lots of copies and incompetently transfer phone calls. I have a dog, which I walk in the park in the evening (in the morning I'm too lazy to go that far). I might be learning a foreign language in free time.