Poetry/prose
I look around and realize that we’re all lions in our enclosures. Some of us have wolf companions. We have our trophies and our prizes we’ve won from our hunts, but we’re all old lions, our best hunting days are behind us. We’ve retreated to our well appointed dens.
I’m imagining in this scenario lions have evolved into humaniod creatures, but still with lion like traits. I realize now that men have such a need to tinker and to overtake their environment in some way, be it by owning higher quality materials like leather or engineering them with sythetic alternatives. It’s not any different, the desire to expand mastry is universal.
Because even if you build a better moustrap people will worry that the new mousetrap has design flaws, you can’t win for trying. The best course is to relax and try and get some work done.
I actually produced something that I’m proud of, but I can’t share it here because that would break anonomity. The point is I did it.
Anyway I find it interesting being surrounded by a bunch of old male lions. Most of them are dying off. Leaving well appointed dens to new owners or to elderly female lions. To tell the truth I haven’t been able to see much of the elderly female lions they are very solitary and stay indoors. I used to do more when I cooked for them, I probably should start doing that again but my kitchen isn’t very servicable right now. Okay, now I’m more motivated to get the roof done.