It is a very attracting sign, though I have seen much less. The lights are bright and neon, flashing different vibrant colours reading, 'Cocktail party'. I see a club across the street from the park down a few buildings. I sigh and look around for a place where I can start my day at. As I head closer to the city, the stars whisper goodbye and are then clouded by the city lights and smog. I look up at the morning stars as they greet me with bright, invisible eyes.
Along the way I see a couple or two and a few drunkards wobbling unsteadily along the road. I stand up and stretch again and sling my bag over my shoulder and head down the park. I reach into my bag and pull out my boots and slip my feet in them, wiggling my toes a little to make sure my feet are completely in before tying the laces. I don't look like a 146 year old man, nor did I look like a 163 year old�\which I am. This is how I've been living for that past 146 years. To many people this would seem strange, but this is completely normal for me. I stretch as if I am waking at an average time in an average home.
I move my shoe less feet off the bench one at a time onto the damp grass allowing dew to slowly seep through the stitches of my socks. It does not surprised me, have I grown used to the sound. I wake up on a bench in a park at 3:40 in the morning to the sounds of rape coming from behind a tree a few feet away from me.
