I don't get out much. I sit here in my pouch, listening to the crickets chirping. chirpentag. chirpentag.
I'm trying to move on and put your abandonment behind me, but as I'm being pointed at the magnificent European architecture and wondrous rolling hills of these fascinating foreign landscapes, I am only focused on spilled cheerios and crafty bags. My lens was made for only you.
Oh, how I miss crafty bags.
I took this for you. I thought you'd like it.
Okay I didn't. I stole it. I'd do anything for you.
Until we can be together again, I will be strong and take comfort in the service I am rendering. I am not angry with you; just longing to be home.