He strums his guitar like playing his own heart, trying to open a door to something no one could ever see. No one could ever fathom. Hiding a secret that has been long lost, and forgotten. Isolated he sits, waiting for the inspiring wisps of chords to come. searching endlessly for the combination to his own world, his own mind.

Many would love to peer into his excitement, his passion. Many would love an invitation to criticize. But there he sits. Tapping into his magic. Strumming tirelessly, slowly disappearing. Going in and out of his world and ours. a world none could ever visit. None would understand.

I have been. I have seen the streets filled with songs. Each city a different key. Every animal a different melody. Oceans of chords, Mountains of notes. A world made of music.