The violinist plays as the artist takes down his paintings.
Nothing sold today. His spiraling visions of figurative
meaning behind the sentimental moments that he can't forget
have failed to make an impact on the passers-by,
once again.
He drops meager change into the case
of the musician.

The human statue breaks her frozen form
to act out a five second tragedy as he
makes his way down the avenue;
free of charge.

His fanbase is of the kind that can only
sympathize. Endeared to him not through the way
he spreads his paint, but from his passionate speeches.
When he explains the reasons behind each minute element,
they can't help but to relate. How he reaches
to define every detail of what would otherwise be
just another memory.