He sat playing his guitar like a drug. The rhythm of the music rocked him gently as he sat. One leg folded under his body the other hanging down. It suited him to be slightly sipping on a drink between songs. The words he sang soothed the folds of my heart. I enjoyed the conversations around me, participated, and then sat to listen as he opened his heart and let it all hang out. He was intense in pouring himself out with his music, he desired us all to catch his passion and love.
His t-shirt in jeans were the perfect contrast to the room cloaked in formal design. He seemed to have been plucked out of a coffee shop and set down in this room of dress shirts and skirts. This did not bother him, he had his music and he needed nothing else.
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