And as I sat detached from the pulsing lights and thumping bass, I witnessed the majesty of an animal, long believed to be extinct. Sure, the wild creature was aged, but age brought a craggy and world-worn ruggedness that must have lent a sort of charm, not to mention a glib tongue. It was at home in the concrete jungle, for it carried itself with an ease that I undoubtedly lack.
Bruised, bleeding, blistered and suffering from all other kinds of maladies, I could only watch in wide-eyed admiration, while my little talking shadow gave random odd comments about the whirling masses that surrounded us.
The animal may grow old, but will never die.
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