I continued to drag on still, pedaling through the dirt and the ground, with the spear and the shield and the sword crooked and locked still in arms, made heavy by the weight of the equipment. My somnolent head was heavy, caused by the depravity of enthralling, calling and seductive sleep. I had to admit, even if I did some sort of cruel punishment, walking all the continent from New York to San Francisco was strenuous. I was able to compact my travel through the continent in less than ten days by means of friendly drivers that picked me up like a hitchhiker in the road and by welcoming transportation, yet I had to admit, some semblance of respite would be most welcome. My small bag, slug over my shoulder and resting nicely on the muscle, contained inside a small loaf of bread and some set of clothes I had used during my travel.
My travels had bene filled with adventures and tales. Some of thrills, some of excitement, some of danger and some of hilarity. No real tragedy had occurred between my travels, but I did have to save a woman once during my travel through a forest. My shoes were filled with sand and the flaps of my jacket swung uniformly overtime my blistered and tired feet moved forward for a push of my body. My brow was filled with sweat and my hair was a jungle of untamed black hairs. During my travels, which had taken me ten days, I had not taken particular care for my personal hygiene, thus my teeth were slightly yellow and my visage contained a small, vaguely noticeable yet surely existent beard. I wore a shirt of blood-red, but knew that a change of upper-body garment was needed, due to the over-use of the article of clothing, and my trousers were colored black with a single metal belt and accompanied by black boots that covered my exhausted feet. I had to admit that I did not look the part of the great Roman warrior that I was reported to be once, well, save for my azure eyes, but in continuance, I also had to admit that I cared not for my appearance. I cared only for the sensation of my old bed and of a pillow to press my face to. I cared for the removal of my boots and mu jacket and my bag. I cared for the storing of my weapons and the relaxation of my arms, contorted in effort. However, most of all, I cared for the faces of those comrades I left behind those months of past day in the name of my solitary mission.
By my back still stood the impressive Decumarian gate in all of it's splendor and glory. A true symbol to the grandeur of this second Rome. Yet, while the triumphant gate was fast past my shadow, the barracks which would provide aid and rest, felt still distant and long. I continued to drag myself again and again, but after ten steps were taken, i stopped, dropped my bag and took a deep breath in. It felt nice to allow my nostrils to enjoy that sweet air that perfumated the city, and I could have allowed myself the pleasure of sitting down the middle of the Military Camp, but I did not halt for much longer and after taking my deep breaths in and out, i continued my track, hoping to find anybody who recognized me.
My travels had bene filled with adventures and tales. Some of thrills, some of excitement, some of danger and some of hilarity. No real tragedy had occurred between my travels, but I did have to save a woman once during my travel through a forest. My shoes were filled with sand and the flaps of my jacket swung uniformly overtime my blistered and tired feet moved forward for a push of my body. My brow was filled with sweat and my hair was a jungle of untamed black hairs. During my travels, which had taken me ten days, I had not taken particular care for my personal hygiene, thus my teeth were slightly yellow and my visage contained a small, vaguely noticeable yet surely existent beard. I wore a shirt of blood-red, but knew that a change of upper-body garment was needed, due to the over-use of the article of clothing, and my trousers were colored black with a single metal belt and accompanied by black boots that covered my exhausted feet. I had to admit that I did not look the part of the great Roman warrior that I was reported to be once, well, save for my azure eyes, but in continuance, I also had to admit that I cared not for my appearance. I cared only for the sensation of my old bed and of a pillow to press my face to. I cared for the removal of my boots and mu jacket and my bag. I cared for the storing of my weapons and the relaxation of my arms, contorted in effort. However, most of all, I cared for the faces of those comrades I left behind those months of past day in the name of my solitary mission.
By my back still stood the impressive Decumarian gate in all of it's splendor and glory. A true symbol to the grandeur of this second Rome. Yet, while the triumphant gate was fast past my shadow, the barracks which would provide aid and rest, felt still distant and long. I continued to drag myself again and again, but after ten steps were taken, i stopped, dropped my bag and took a deep breath in. It felt nice to allow my nostrils to enjoy that sweet air that perfumated the city, and I could have allowed myself the pleasure of sitting down the middle of the Military Camp, but I did not halt for much longer and after taking my deep breaths in and out, i continued my track, hoping to find anybody who recognized me.