The hole.
I have a neighbor, 76 years of age, who walks down to "our" cliffs and take a "swim" 365 days a year.
No matter the weather, he walks down in his bathrobe, slippers on his feet, and jumps in.
Every time I´m down there, by the water, I wait for him to climb up again.
He´s always a bit insulted, but I stay, anyway.
One day, the undercurrent may pull him down, and I don´t wanna be the guy who left that day.
We´re still friends, even if our dialogue is the one of two grumpy men.
The hole.
I have a neighbor, 76 years of age, who walks down to "our" cliffs and take a "swim" 365 days a year.
No matter the weather, he walks down in his bathrobe, slippers on his feet, and jumps in.
Every time I´m down there, by the water, I wait for him to climb up again.
He´s always a bit insulted, but I stay, anyway.
One day, the undercurrent may pull him down, and I don´t wanna be the guy who left that day.
We´re still friends, even if our dialogue is the one of two grumpy men.