july-19th-club

stopping at an understaffed, overcrowded fast food restaurant while on a road trip and crouching over your phone with your chicken sandwich at a corner table like a weary adventurer eating a bowl of unidentifiable stew at a nameless inn, the only one for miles of moor and wood, taking in the chatter around you but speaking to none before pulling your cloak back up over your head and taking t' the road once more

wilmotfornow

just like a beleaguered spacefarer finding the only station for lightyears around and hearing a billions languages you’ve never dreamt of as you idly munch a protein slab with beans on it

july-19th-club

adventurers is the same