“Bro, you do know about love, right?” said Vinni. “It is very much like, when taking a dump, you know how much of the tissue you get to wipe your ass. You don’t measure that shit. You just know. You feel me, brother?”
Vinnie talks a lot of shit, Mac thought. “How can you tell me about love and shit, man, when you don’t even make a move on the babe that you like? You’re all talk, man.” He even compared love to taking a dump.
But Vinni is undeterred. He stands by what he believe in.
-xxx-
Bin mumbled under his breath. He barely understood what the people in this piece of parchment is talking about. He does not even know what type of thing is a tissue.
Surely, the ancients know what they are talking about.
But the technology has been lost for generations. What remains are the husks of their former selves. Twisted metal contraptions, gathering dust and rust. Some of these apparatuses have been converted into hovels by the Dwellers of the Conurbation. These hovels protect the people from the harsh desert winds and the scorching heat of the sun.
As far as the eye can see, there is only sand. In the west, lies a mountain range with lush green forests of oak and fir. In the south, a beach made of fine white sand on the background of a glistening blue sea which stretches as far as the eye can see. The north and east borders of the conurbation are just stretches of miles of sand and dust.
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