First day: Gone. Taken. By a cousin. No money, no job. All the time in the world. Cue bravado. World-building steadily improved. There is joy in sadness. The cough is here to stay.
Coke. Cola, cola. Zero family. The slut of a sister. Rediscovery. The job is mandatory, masturbatory. Questions, more questions, more questions than answers with questions.
Snore, yeah, yeah. Come back. Respond to me. Lost you.
Sad. My memory of you eating a burger fighting. That's not the way to live a life, to strengthen the relationship.
Where do we find you, sweet thing that provides us with anything, everything? Food, clothing, gears, stuff, yada. Green, green grass of home. Then you get a wedding -- a red wedding -- and I click just to like it.
Let's make business. Get filthy rich. Poor people in a rich country giving money to rich people in a poor country. The theory, we shall walk it. Fire walk it.
Let's walk and walk. Tent.