Alex

His hair flies wild with the wind, curls cascading around him like some sort of earthly halo, some sort of lone traveler from a far distant land. His guitar strung casually across his back, he walks with contemplative steps only when no one is looking. Seemingly carefree, his smile lights up my night with splendor, and his gentle guitar woos me. Still he carries deep within him a secret burden; a troubled soul, the weight of the world can be seen deep in his soul tired eyes, yet his tender lips remain mute. He is a modern martyr in this dirty world, and when he finally speaks, others will hear only silence, and all of his life, his worries, his woes, his wisdom, will have been for naught.