Old backpacks never die, they're just frayed away
Old Man Winter, your fury is destroying all my cool stuff that reminds me of when I was young.
My MEC backpack, once so indestructible that I could carry all my high-school textbooks at once (much to the detriment of my spine), has a zipper that's permanently lost its zip. My Value Village wallet, which I originally got as a decoy to fool the potential muggers of New York -- its clasp can clasp no more. My black winter coat, which I got long before the Matrix made them cool and the Trenchcoat Mafia made them somewhat less cool, has a ripped hip pocket and two missing buttons, and its kickass threads are a patchwork shambles.
Now I need new things. Torontonian things.
Sigh.
My MEC backpack, once so indestructible that I could carry all my high-school textbooks at once (much to the detriment of my spine), has a zipper that's permanently lost its zip. My Value Village wallet, which I originally got as a decoy to fool the potential muggers of New York -- its clasp can clasp no more. My black winter coat, which I got long before the Matrix made them cool and the Trenchcoat Mafia made them somewhat less cool, has a ripped hip pocket and two missing buttons, and its kickass threads are a patchwork shambles.
Now I need new things. Torontonian things.
Sigh.