Every time I see an AI poster I feel physically ill.
I know it's because community groups do whatever is free + fast... but now I actually prefer shitty clipart posters with 16 neon colors.
Graphic Design Is My Passion is a legit cool aesthetic now.
@japan_nobunaga The first gun was a 9mm compact pistol. It was hard on my wrist, so I traded it for a smaller .380 ACP caliber.
I also picked up 3 even smaller pistols.
I got all four of those within reach next to my bed.
And two .22 rifles on a shelf above my bed.
Somewhere in America, a drive-in. I ordered a small drink, and they handed me a bucket with a straw in it.
I had asked for small because I am a modest man. Restraint is a discipline. I chose the humblest vessel on the menu.
The cup required two hands.
"This is the small?"
"That's the small, yes sir."
I held it up. It eclipsed the sun. In my land, a teacup rests in the palm like a small bird, and a man drinks in three quiet sips and is grateful. This 'small' held enough liquid to put out a cooking fire.
"Then what," I asked, afraid of the answer, "is the large?"
The girl at the window pointed. A man in a truck was cradling something with both arms. A vessel. A barrel with a lid. He was not drinking it so much as living alongside it.
"That's the large."
I understood then. The words have not lied. The scale has simply moved. In this country, 'small' is not a size. It is a rank. It means: smallest among giants. The lowest soldier in an army of titans is still a soldier.
I drank my bucket in the parking lot, with both hands, like a child with a festival prize. I confess I could not finish it. I, who chose smallness as discipline, was defeated by the discipline I chose.
A small that takes two hands is not a lie. It is a promise that undersold itself.
I will order the small again. Every time. Not because I can finish it.
Because somewhere in this land there is a man cradling the large, and one of us must remain humble.