What a place. Dry, high, ready to accept your failure. You have six months of livable outdoors when the sun looks like this. Seek minimal success before the cold sets in.
Don’t despair, my many task’d charge. In your toil, ape, is beauty. It’s not in the things you make, though you’ll find evidence of it there. Certainly not in your money stacks.
Beauty was always there for those who got to watch you as you toiled for baubles.
You are so beautiful. A beautiful toiling monkey.