Unrelenting Volition: The Amber
On pulling yourself from the amber. The fourth position. The city of Busan and the stench of Hagfish silk.
You awake one morning from uneasy dreams and find yourself preserved in fossilized resin. Odd — just before bed you were drooling in revere. I mean, great intentions were flooding your mind. The road to victory, its intervening mountain peeks, the map to it all — by grace some deity had come and whispered in your ear, “Grasp tightly the earth, bold ride…