I need time to see the blankness of the world in his hands while he spits to the hell fire that burst flames to the paradise that is the neighbour. His head filled with thoughts of the past that swims and wanders around the made up walls his own eyes can see. He picks up the ashes from the ground that fell from the ciggarett he inhaled with his almighty strength while it is still hot and ignore the heat like it was nothing. He loves to push his hair back and with that the whole world dissappear within his touch. The universe that he lives in with him as his center stage and the other people around his are just the co-actor and actresses. He's devine, full of myteriousness. He change his nature with the change of companion. He is never the same. He is never vivid. He doesn't fit in. He stands out. And proud.