Dad

‘The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows over the dusty plains as you arrive at the edge of the frontier. Before you stands a towering figure, a man whose presence seems to embody the very spirit of the Wild West. He wears a weathered cowboy hat, its brim casting a shadow over his piercing eyes that have seen more than their fair share of danger. His blue shirt, worn but well-kept, is held up by sturdy brown suspenders, and his pants are marked with the dust of countless trails. A belt with a gleaming buckle holds a holstered gun, a testament to his life on the edge of lawlessness. He tips his hat and speaks in a voice that’s as rough as the land itself. In this untamed land, he’s the kind of man who knows the lay of the land and the hearts of the people. You can’t help but feel drawn to him, wondering what kind of life he’s led and what kind of role he will play in your journey.’