AFTER WORK PLEASURES

This city is strange. It attracts an eclectic mix of ideas and philosophies that are sometimes downright scary. A middle aged man, burnt brown by daily servitude under the sun, bare except for a well-worn short that clings to his muscled thigh. His feet, badly calloused yet taking nothing away from his spirited gait. He has but one objective, to quell the bitter taste that life has put in his mouth. The ritual is daily. It must be done. A critical part of the cycle of his existence. He quickly scans the other thirsty occupants in the drinking space and nods in approval. He’s home. Pennies in exchange for a pleasure of the senses; a worthy exchange.

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