One Friday in October.

That rainy evening as you poured your heart out there was nothing but awe and a little chill which crept up my spine nimbly. Every illusion shattered quietly as I wondered what the small silent man holds inside- you, or his enourmous bag of stories. I want to believe that there is love, I want to believe that the both of you fit snugly, as I have always wanted to believe in his music which emanates such strength. I envisioned a new being, a different being and as the rain washed city blurred, I fumbled in my bag for change.