the flickering flame burning bright on the crack of a spring afternoon, the very thought of waiting for you doesn’t seem so bad when it’s not that bad to wait for those who stir your pulse and cause your temperature to rise. i mean it, my body can feel the nearness of you even when you are miles and miles away.
they love him. in the hopes he will touch them and treat them the way he touches and treats his guitar, they wait for him, only to discover that the truth is… absolutely different.
the light softly brightens his skin… the glossy lips - wet from so many careless words and angry movements thrown against a wall of illusion - and the sweaty and intense facial expressions are also bathed by the blinding spotlight, the awkward-unappealing-for-many, inconsequent and harshly-easy-to-blend-in messy hair style, the heavy black leather jacket all too old to be easily placed at a certain moment of time and space and his hardworking, ever flinty and absolutely horribly groomed hands are also under the lovingly frivolous attack of the unsound shine.
all the melting eyes perceive him.
all the minds receive him.
the setting is complete.