The Archeology of a Rolling Stone
I’m not nostalgic for the place but I feel that tug of melancholy leaving behind the memories. Yet the best part about memories is that, at least until I get that delicious dementia, they come with me.
I’m not nostalgic for the place but I feel that tug of melancholy leaving behind the memories. Yet the best part about memories is that, at least until I get that delicious dementia, they come with me.
Empires collapse, fortunes evaporate, and stocks nosedive into hell—but a deep sleep, a clean shit, and a laugh that shakes your skeleton remain the closest thing humanity has to real wealth.