The man shrugs it off but in pretending not to notice, he knows he is being watched. Head cast down he slips out of time and perception, becoming the voiceless shadow he must to be alone with his thoughts.
Light and stone. A tree licks upward like a candleflame, shadows caress leaves and shelter the weary at spring's approach. Sand runs under the wheels of glass-framed cars as trees hold their ground beside telephone poles. Gazing from a window of a moving vehicle, all becomes clear as light-rays stain my pages with lines of ink.
It's past midnight and I'm absorbed in the quiet of my room. Jingling bells from afar precede scratches at my door, before a soft murmur breaks the silence. I open the door to let my friend climb onto the bed we share, as I reflect on my day's events. I learned a song and read a story, but it is the morning's bright caress like alarm bells to my sleepy mind I dread.