There he sits. Watch him as he reflects. His mind a neverending race. The miles get longer and longer each passing moment. Its like time stands still with every step he takes. No finish line in sight, no…..no stopping this race. Sinking deeper in his chair by the second. Quickly before realizing the moment might be lost, never again to be remembered. He starts playing the keyboard, as if to be conducting music with every letter he presses. Yes, this is an instrument with no piano resemblence. The notes are a masterpiece. See, he produces to escape, songs of dreams sewn into his own personal reality. Yes, these pieces placed together as if intersecting thoughts were the glue which connects each sentance. He is happier here, alone as the music starts to make perfect sense…perfect words…perfection in his eyes as he makes his getaway…