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The dust made him sneeze, his face tinted by blackish grease, the freckles reflecting his age but,his mind was on another page. The slightly greying temples, did put forth a fear that trembles in a heart hardly softened; a tremor yet to be pacified. That young stamping sloper, he wasn't once the limpest limper but, a young musician, who knew how to muse precision. He knew the trembling strings, like his trembling trips, to the very deepest depths. He knew how to keep his steps. That pondering philosopher once  he was, I don't know if he still pass the vast valley of momentary music; he was that twisted psychic. The tangled fellow searched through the box that had the forgotten crew. Enthusiasm shot over the place, he couldn't yet forget the forgotten lace. He never would want to retreat, to the fiery fanaticism of his treat, he had enjoyed all that was enjoyable in his small hall of holes,he was able. Greased of age was this musician but,he could smile in fusion with,pain and remorse. He wasn't just meant to be morose.
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Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
Music of the musician.
The dust made him sneeze, his face tinted by blackish grease, the freckles reflecting his age but,his mind was on another page. The slightly greying temples, did put forth a fear that trembles in a heart hardly softened; a tremor yet to be pacified. That young stamping sloper, he wasn't once the limpest limper but, a young musician, who knew how to muse precision. He knew the trembling strings, like his trembling trips, to the very deepest depths. He knew how to keep his steps. That pondering philosopher once  he was, I don't know if he still pass the vast valley of momentary music; he was that twisted psychic. The tangled fellow searched through the box that had the forgotten crew. Enthusiasm shot over the place, he couldn't yet forget the forgotten lace. He never would want to retreat, to the fiery fanaticism of his treat, he had enjoyed all that was enjoyable in his small hall of holes,he was able. Greased of age was this musician but,he could smile in fusion with,pain and remorse. He wasn't just meant to be morose.
Got the picture? - an old man going through his old things.
SusanJacob
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Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
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