Busy of late.
Hanging strong, tough, though. Head held high. Cautiously optimistic.
No prowling in bunker like debilitated dictator, all dramatic. Understated, cool and calm, collected. This is how I fight my wars these days.
Bizarre being busy once again. Faintly free of hopes and dreams and loving such a freedom, I resembled the walking dead. Smiling emptily, with nothing in my head.
Now I am marching on, and proudly. But no hostility. I talk to the people almost as if they were my equals. I play the game. Give me hell and I’ll give you an image of the man who can thrive in it.