Once upon a time, a boy met a girl. Some would call it random, others, a matter of time.
She had left the bus near his home hundreds of times, unsuspecting.
He had walked past her school, unaware that his muse was inside that bad copy of an arbeitslager...
They even shared friends, and many other things. Many. And then, some more...
For unknown reasons, a curtain came from nowhere.
His slow descent into a combination of madness and sanity spiraled.
One innocent poem became material for a few books, and continues to flow for the foreseeable future.
Determined to grow a voice, to be a scythe on the silence, to reach, he challenged his profile. He still does, day by day.
Every Saturday, that boy still awaits, in his local railway station, from 7:00 to 8:30.
The boy grew a beard, with some salt and pepper in it. He might even look venerable to the reject teens he comes across, a relic.
So be it. The boy knows to wait. And hope against all hope.
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