He takes his guitar out of its case.
And he starts to walk.
-the same path as the last nineteen years-
He walks.
He walks.
And he walks.
Until the surface of the ground
feels a lot lighter
-like the weight on his shoulders-
and he knows he's there.
And he sits down, careless.
Without paying attention to the nature around him.
-as always-.
He looks up to the sky
lets out a sigh.
He hides his forest eyes
-he's really good at hiding things-
He lets his fingers
play beautiful notes
using his guitar
-the usual ones-
He can feel the vibration
of the strings on his fingertips
-as never before-.
After a while has passed,
he starts feeling too cold
-both inside and outside-
And decides it's time to leave.
