The weight of solitude bears down on our protagonist, a naked, vulnerable soul in the stark, cold light of his bedroom. His hand, a poor substitute for human touch, dances up and down his rigid shaft, his body convulsing with each electric jolt of pleasure. His eyes flutter closed, imagination filling in the gaps, yet the cold reality of his loneliness seeps back in with every gasping breath. He is a ship lost at sea, his masturbation a futile attempt to keep afloat in the storm of his own desires.