Oh, to be tucked away in some forsaken wintry pocket of seclusion, a man and his hands and determination, gone from it all. Alone with the wilder things, at peace with the ice-kissed ether, lost from the maddening crowd. And as the world slipped further into its oblivion, I would be out there, living, with not a concern for their wretched thoughts or movements. Civilization is but a bittersweet reminiscence as the days stretch on in the silent splendor of the hinterlands—away from them all.
I may take up carpentry yet!
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