Maurice Every evening walks her slender body, his dreams and lost hopes, to the huge lake that mysteriously, expect every day. Some evenings the water they receive bites, rebellious, unruly, aggressive. Other times it involves in the serene calm of the great spirits of nature, cuddling with a damp breeze as balm soothes your pain.
red are the hours of summer. A massacre of heaven dripping hot red on the face of the earth.
happy Families seek solace on the banks of that for them, is almost always a rich encounter with the vital vibrations of that body of water as impressive as unpredictable. A wide swath of green lawn and old trees with their tops open like umbrellas provide a framework to lakeside landscape, creating the illusion of freshness denied. While some run, others walk, groups of friends sit around talking and laughing on the stone railing that gives way to the edge of the waters or on the warm grass. Loose pets are following their masters. Children give life to the Red Man
Maurice always sits on the bench under a tree whose branches almost touch the ground. With slow, tired, rescued from the bottom of his bag a violin which turns red on contact with light. Painfully slowly begins to run old Southern melodies, gazing into the horizon beyond the lake. The magic of his art undeniable sweetness of the songs gently invade the whole landscape. Little children come up, curious and smiling, adults watching him from afar, watch the concert , applauding every performance. Brokers will greet hand without stopping the run. The man ignores these events, lost in memories of the red notes.
A bloody solar disk, floating in a sea of \u200b\u200bfuchsia slides his way into the next world eternal. Shortly before disappearing, afternoon fueguina the beam delivery silvery full moon discreet distance, observes the scene.
When the sky offering its frame around the moon dark to dazzling in its beautiful light, and the last notes of elegant, melancholy violin disappear in the darkness of black night red man.
gramming
