He believes a good shelter is one where rest and shadows are found; a hiding, getaway place of sorts where real life is stripped away until all that’s left is just him: what makes him who he is without looking at the way the world outlines him.

He refuses to be defined by the space around him; by the snares that stalk people by night or the plague that consumes people by day. It’s a different kind of protection than absolute safety, where nothing happens and cause people to become belligerent. But it gives him enough sleep each night, tucked in a blanket of peace instead of comfort, and there’s no other place he’d rather be.


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