S and standing there, blissfully, while the world rushes around to change to stay afloat, not to succumb. Him there in his cave, clinging firmly and always stays the same. Motionless spends his time curled up in his certainty of anything done, insistent and inconsistent. A meal, the wait for mating, a night flight from the likes of the pack.
Hung like a sausage in the cool of a cave ... that bizarre fate, his own, he never chose.
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