Monday, April 18, 2011


The sounds of the strings being plucked bounced off the rafters and the walls. It was late and I was the only one watching him, listening to his complex story. In those moments, he was beautiful and I would forget about the moments outside of that time. I rubbed my shoulder and felt a bit of pain, a small reminder of what it was like when he wasn't lost in his own rapture.

*** One Word ***

1 comment:

  1. A lot is said here and not said as well leave the reader wanting more.