There is something incredibly epic about staying up all night and watching the sun rise.
Even more so, if you had spent some portion of the previous night building and keeping a fire...
I must say, if the shoddy excuse for a communication medium we are using was better (say telepathy), then perhaps I could actually transmit something of real value to you at this moment. Instead, you must make do with the barest, crusty smudges which linguistics and semantics allow me to indelibly impregnate with some portion of the psychic pizza I throw at this imaginary wall.
They say you can know someone if you walk a mile in their moccasins... so if you dare, you could burn brambles on a cliff, while breaking in some handmade leather hand-me-downs, with copious amounts of superfood chocolate, and a dubious array of research nootropics... and then lie in wait to give a gift to unreceptive & unfriendly refugees after 15,000 days of unpaid internship at the dream fabrik.
Among other things.
[A tweet gift for you]
--- in case you're feeling receptive.