this post was submitted on 27 Aug 2024
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I spent thirteen years growing bonsai, fifteen pining over Loravindrel. That brought me into my eight year long emo-goth period which produced poetry I've since fed to the flames. For sixteen seasons after that I meditaed under a plum tree and swept the eight hundred and seventy two dozen and five stars. Six years I practiced the letter œ to master the uhm. Fifty seven years I spent in the arms of Madeleine and our oldest grandchild is about your age. And the last three seasons I've been chasing the south-western gale that robbed her from me decades too early.
Dude, what's even your job? How did you make a living for 106 years just sitting around?
The value markets of men is a circular process of overproduction and scarcity. The bare-essential trinkets of yesteryear can often be exchanged for today's luxuries.