L goes to the zoo.

As a child and a teenager, I had always loved the zoo; I envied the carefree lifestyles of seals and tigers who sunbathed, napped, and played their days away. So I went to the zoo today to chase away the gloom of the last two days of rain (I do relish gloominess, though; there is nothing quite like a cemetery on a rainy day.) 

As an (almost) adult, I found the zoo depressing. It's simply unnatural to keep animals in confined spaces. There are two kinds of zoo animals; the ones who nap every second of the day and are content with their lives of ease, and the ones that prowl the perimeter of their cages and feel their souls suffocating without the thrill of death upon them. (I like to think of myself as the latter.)