He entered cavernous concrete cubicle to unleash tenterhooks of the night. It felt like he was preparing for a hunt, scrupulously placing each item to suit his survival mode.
Accidental spider crossing his path couldn’t put him off his stroke.
He knew where he was, where he had been, and where he was going.
Like a prehistoric man, scantily clad but with real tools that pushed the limits. Sponge, soap, shampoo. The darkness of primeval days dispelled by bright lights hanging inside.
After the shower, Viggo was able to carry out his daily routine with the vigour of a teenager.
About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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