Last night I dreamt about living in a fantastic modern but cozy house. It was all linear and minimalistic without feeling sterile with warm colors like chocolate brown and neutrals. However next door was a rather old, like South American ruins old, monument of sorts but in actually was a burial ground. It was my impression it was an open columbarium, vines growing all over and around statues, ledges, columns, all in a stone grey with a sort of gritty feel to it. There was some man there, garbed in robes perhaps, and he was informing me of some plans to renovate the area. I was not happy with it, spouting respect and tradition and leaving things as they were and I stomped off back to my little house. It was my mother's monument I was more concerned about really, and everyone knows I hate change unless absolutely necessary. I like order and schedules and tradition and loyalty.
Sometimes I think I'd have been better off at a time when carrying a sword would've been completely acceptable because at least people shook hands back then to show trust. The world is plagued by posers, fakes, selfish backstabbers and borders don't necessarily need to be protected because the cancer is already growing within.
And now that I've cheered myself up, have a glorious Monday evening! Isn't today the 40th anniversary of the Apollo moon landing?
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