[66 / 15 / ?]
Quoted By: >>3321313
>ITT: we pretend we're chosis
The more accurate the better, bonus for OC
I'll start
Was it fate that lead me to this dog fountain? Was it luck? Or was it perhaps the will of something more powerful than you or I could even imagine? These are the thoughts racing through my mind as I approach the Lonesome Warrior. To the everyday observer he might not seem like anything out of the ordinary, but I knew it the moment I saw him: He's a relic from a bygone era, making a fierce stand against the iron claws of time that relentlessly keep scraping at us all. He's the one who was here before me, who will still be here after me, maybe rusty and his paint chipping away, but standing fierce and stable as ever. He's the one who (perhaps with some of that unmistakably resilient and stubborn ethnic sass) put his imaginary hands on his imaginary waist and said "Mmhm, I ain't movin for nothin not now not ever, you got a problem boi, dat's yo problem, nuh huh homie I's stayin right here, you can count on dat know what I'm sayin?".
As we get to know each other a bit better I begin to get a glimpse into this fight against time, the stand against being forgotten in this quiet part of the park in the shade. The Lonesome Warrior's fight is a well needed reminder to the finite nature of us and the world we built. I would stay and hang out with him a bit longer, but from the corner of our eye I see a prime example of a sad reflection on our society, and the next word salad narrative already begins forming in my head. And by "prime" I mean 14 year old, and by "sad reflection on our society" I mean she's on her phone probably texting Chad instead of me. I exchange one last look with the Warrior, and in that moment I know he understands. Life must go on.
The more accurate the better, bonus for OC
I'll start
Was it fate that lead me to this dog fountain? Was it luck? Or was it perhaps the will of something more powerful than you or I could even imagine? These are the thoughts racing through my mind as I approach the Lonesome Warrior. To the everyday observer he might not seem like anything out of the ordinary, but I knew it the moment I saw him: He's a relic from a bygone era, making a fierce stand against the iron claws of time that relentlessly keep scraping at us all. He's the one who was here before me, who will still be here after me, maybe rusty and his paint chipping away, but standing fierce and stable as ever. He's the one who (perhaps with some of that unmistakably resilient and stubborn ethnic sass) put his imaginary hands on his imaginary waist and said "Mmhm, I ain't movin for nothin not now not ever, you got a problem boi, dat's yo problem, nuh huh homie I's stayin right here, you can count on dat know what I'm sayin?".
As we get to know each other a bit better I begin to get a glimpse into this fight against time, the stand against being forgotten in this quiet part of the park in the shade. The Lonesome Warrior's fight is a well needed reminder to the finite nature of us and the world we built. I would stay and hang out with him a bit longer, but from the corner of our eye I see a prime example of a sad reflection on our society, and the next word salad narrative already begins forming in my head. And by "prime" I mean 14 year old, and by "sad reflection on our society" I mean she's on her phone probably texting Chad instead of me. I exchange one last look with the Warrior, and in that moment I know he understands. Life must go on.
