He searched his scrambled thoughts for an answer, heaving a weary sigh.
"No," he grumbled, "not really."
He twisted his neck to the side with an unsettling crack, grimacing at the pain of the adjustment.
"I used to write a little," he explained, "but nobody really reads anymore, so I guess I didn't see the point."
He took a long drag off of a vaporizer, coughing and sputtering as he exhaled. The bags under his eyes and his beleaguered expression showed that he was a stranger in this time, and was only able to accept the modern world begrudgingly and with great difficulty.
"Used to like books, too, but life is too noisy to focus on something like reading now. It's a shame, but nobody really has the attention span they used to."
He stared off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular but still managing to look through it.
"No, I don't write anymore. It was fun for a while though."