Review on Donald Trump Toilet Paper by Richboom by Will Carey

It's like lying in a mountain stream in early summer when the sun is beginning to melt snow above the tree line – cool, clear water awakens the senses and quickens every breath with adrenaline. The water is fast and deep enough to cover our bodies. The stream performed its annual ritual long before we were here and will continue to perform it long after we are dead. The smooth stones beneath us, worn away to uneven perfection by the slow rhythm of the seasons, seem to have been carved by heaven just for us. We couldn't stop the water even if we wanted to. And who wants that? I will stay here forever.