A man approaches MR

and starts talking nicely. I foolishly either willingly get in the conversation or am welcomed into it. The man is complaining about his depression. He is an accomplished alcoholic, being one for decades. His claims of drinking are -- well, claims. His other woes are, I'm sure real, but blurred by years and by alcohol. I stupidly offered him some advice: consider why you are alive if: you did indeed tried and failed to kill yourself, and have suffered the many loses in your life. This was about as useful as, "The wall over there is off-white, ya know?"

A man who drinks like that and does not eat, is going to die! When? It was a good time to get out of Dodge.

My lesson here is, if a person walks up to you with an alcoholic drink in his / her hand and says, "I'm an alcoholic!", just pretend your Serbian and English isn't your strong suit.