Sorry, you must be a member of the group to do that. Join this group.
He dozed in the beach chair at the shoreline of the wave pool. A siren sounded on a timer, signaling the uterine churning of the waves. It was humid and smelled of chlorine. There was nothing natural about it. They could not be farther from the wilderness. They were gerbils in a cage, taking turns running on the wheel. Surrounding him were the flawed, near-naked bodies of his countrymen, engaged in their childish pursuits. Cellulite. Hairy shoulders. Caesarian scars. Dumb slaves to their smartphones, they traded living in the moment for taking pictures of the moment.
This is a profoundly accurate depiction of Americana today.
