
Call me old fashioned… but to me a “real man” is the kind that opens doors for ladies, dresses well from head to toe, whistles as he walks down the street and has a few “robotic parts” that can really make him run super fast or punch thru doors or thin walls. That’s just the way my mother taught me.

My trip was life changing. Big eyes gazed up at me. Hungry. Wanting. Needy. It was all around me. Desperation. Flys. A putred stentch filled the air.
