Galleta Meadows, the following morning…

He stayed up most of the night, letting the Milky Way keep him company. The whiskey wears off as the sun starts to rise, so the man heads back into the Galleta Meadows to be among the metallic mammoths of the Borrego desert.
The man is feeling extra dark inside as he crunches the earth in his worn out boots. The Mammoths do little to help shine a light on his soul, they only feed the blackness.

He looks around as the sun starts to rise, and a smile creeps onto his weathered and beaten face.

Dark soul or not, empty or full of light, helpful or sinister…..
None of it matters at all out here, only the instinct to survive. As long as one is alive, you can continue to write your own saga.

Tell your own tale.

Be whomever you want to be.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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