Lonely town, lonely street.

It was an idle piece of time, the sort of afternoon where you could afford to get around to what you’ve been truly wanting to do all week. Time cooperated in its elasticity, perhaps because there was no true magic in the moment even if there was potential for it. He had no plans but he had gas in his car and enough numbers to ring for these type of occasions. His role in society was as one of those genuinely rare breed of excellent conversationalists born with the talent to charm anybody out of their pants. Although not very tidy with responsibilities, he was brash and courageous enough to author his own number of triumphs at a young age. Melancholic longings played no part amongst these type of men. He would just charge out to get something. Go out and go. And if that didn’t work, he would simply move on, almost as if to say,

“Life really is as simple as that. What the fuck is so complicated anyway?”

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