We were talking in philosophy the other day (I'll make this extremely concise) how we there isn't one MAN; in other words, you can't walk down the street and point out THE man, but rather A man.
Today, that notion is broken. I saw THE Man. I wish I had a camera, because it was priceless.
The Man was a man:
-in his 60s
-wearing penny loafers
-navy blue dress socks
-pressed khaki pants
-a VELVET royal navy blue smoking jacket
-a helmet
-sunglasses
-riding a WHITE adorned motorcycle, low and long
-revving that ß!†©π like a boss
I couldn't believe my eyes as thousands of years of philosophical thought were shattered in the shift of gears on a Harley by white-haired man. He doesn't always ride, but when he does, he rides like a boss.
Angela
Tango en las calles de la Boca
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