This human, that was once a shadow, looks up and sees the owner of the knees he's resting on,the milk white skin from a lithe body of an angelic figure. The figure that's flesh is so tight over bones that the skin is as smooth as a granite feel. The spidery hands gifted to a piano player, a violin player, a guitarist an artist. They hold his head in a soft and firm manner, as if to guide him not really to protect, that's the love she feels for this creature. She strokes his wet matted fur. He shivers at the anticipation of a freely given love. Yet he cowers at the embrace for thought of something painful is about to happen. She smiles at this reaction, she blinks slowly. The lashes moving at an incredible glacial pace, as if beauty is frozen in time. He breathes in her exotic scent, something nostalgic yet barren in its memory. He thinks for a second that he's found peace he is longing for, and realises that all he shall receive on this day is another ill cancerous feeling bubbling inside and turning his guts.. He realises he is truly alone in his misery, and those knees are an ivory covered figment of a beautiful mind, a mind troubled, a mind broken yet still a mind with a heart that feels and a soul that shines an ethereal light