window-sille

Evan sat at the down on the piano stool his fingers running over the keys of the grand piano that sat in the middle of a lifeless room. The wall made of glass creating a picture effect scene of rain falling soundlessly against the panels, the darkness only helping the young man concentrate. Closing his eyes his fingers began to recite a song he knew all to well {To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra}. His voice was quiet as he sang while playing, the song meaning far to much to him that he cared to admit to himself or anyone else for that matter. 
“There is a house built out of stone. Wooden floors, walls and window sills. Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust. This is a place where I don’t feel alone. This is a place where I feel at home. And I built a home, for you, for me. Until it disappeared from me, from you” Taking another deep breath Evan continued tears in his eyes as he finally let his emotions out through playing, thorough music. 
 ”And now, it’s time to leave and turn to dust…..Out in the garden where we planted the seeds. There is a tree as old as me. Branches were sewn by the color of green, Ground had arose and passed its knees. By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top I climbed the tree to see the world. When the gusts came around to blow me down. Held on as tightly as you held onto me. Held on as tightly as you held onto me……” The man was blissfully unaware that he was being watched as he carried on the piece tears stuck in his eyes as he began to cope with the situations of recent events in his own way.