He has returned to his room again,
The familiarity of the smell of coming home
Fills the air and sends him on a trip that would rival that of any drug

He greets his guitars like you would greet old friends
Caresses the strings of each lightly
As if the nickel where not nickel but rather velvet

Touch. Touch. Touch.
Memories flood.
Can not suppress the slightest grin.
"How long has it been?"

'Remember this... and that... ooh, but not that.
That still stings a little'

Silence

Time to strike pose.
What a lovely smile.
So unfortunate that it's fake when he's so genuine...
It's probably the reason why there's such a difference in the title of this work of art.
The objective was to call the painting by what was seen inside...

Most call it "The Boy in his Musical Metropolis"

He calls it "The Tortured Artist in the Empty Room"