Large house located within the city, on a crowded day pass. Maybe sometimes people stop to look at and desire to live in it once. But then forget the next day and go through. The house was very large but also very single.

Surrounding the house is a large garden. All kinds of flowers. Brilliant.? No. Withered because no one care. Trails lead into the garden and moss-covered grass. There are few people that live in this house that the Appearance country. Default. The house was still fighting a battle against time.

In contrast to the third floor. A room with windows overlooking the road is always closed. Im pulling the curtain stayed quiet throughout the day. Yet there are people in it. Because sometimes you hear the piano. Balance positive, but sad. Containing a deposition loneliness.

Today, like every day, go back to selling roses. Regular seat behind his house was extensive. Where many people go through and would of course there will be buyers. But the man who has to go without concern fragrant bouquets of roses. It seems that no one set up to nature.

Left Eye occasion. Late evening is that. But do not look official, who care for flowers? United does not sell what they get food? Eyelids droop. Backs against the wall. Blinding cone drag. Sleep will come quickly with the fragrance of the roses in front.

To sleep accompanied by the sound of deep bass even silence. Carnival eye out. Ears to listen to the sound of piano keys slowly release each one. Gently but profoundly sad. Blankly. Floral also seem to hear the sound of settling. Very soft hands glide to each flexible pitches stopped completely sad tunes chasms reached the ears of those who standing among the roses and stop tho.Tieng gentle piano so why? Gentle, peaceful. Lang Lang in the paradise of scents and music, including fatigue as suddenly vanish. Close your eyes to music that poured into your ear. Do not miss even a single note.

Smaller then the sound ceased. Look up. Windows closed. Curtains let go. In the chamber did not know who that be? How does that sound of it together? Clear, but quiet and sad. Or like a real pianist. Ignore silly. Sigh look at the roses spread out in front. No one is buying.

Pm. Still there are those who love beauty. Most of its pink. A few roses, think of how such sales pitches did not. Looking up windows with blue curtains. Put the cotton
good by the red gate. He will see and will take up only. Smile.

*****

The next morning. Very soon because the hangover want to know the flowers have been human or not. King gates only stay a Red Wing. Surely he rose up and took off. Does he know who the flowers are not? Throughout the day to keep looking up above the window forever, just hoping someone cracked the door and looked down below, call or do something. But still nothing.

Only the piano sound is still so sweet. Today, the gentle song that is longer than yesterday, not lost halfway. Drunk listening to the sound was clear. Sometimes songs like soaring high into the sky touch away. But the holy meat back there sometimes, like the sound of breaking clear of the meteor. Such as streams and digging, and soft as silk fly. As both a sparkling Milky Way in the play. Sounds heaven is locked us into the realm of human dreams.

Stop the sound back then still pay silly. During the day the sound just sounded Ngong anxiously. But the sound as intended. Only rang once a day in the morning. Never a second time. Is that what guitar so much work? Why not hit him for a song below to listen to this? Look up. The window was closed. Disease or why he never opened? Open the door, to see people who are on the bottom, to hear the sound of the sweet.

Evening. Sunset quietly covered the roads. Right about it. Too many roses. Leave on for a little more. Encouraged the spirit, perhaps he will be playing much longer.

The night dew rose quietly closes the gate. People about.

*****

Day every day to leave the roses by the window and people are taking up. Happy. Felt like there was a close friend so. Though he did not present his side. Hear the angels songs that they all disappear, leaving only what is fantasy. Life will be beautiful again. Commission will be brighter.

But why did he not opened it? Though only once. It’s great to see the talented people behind the door and the other blue screens too. Certainly would be very nice and gentle.

Back to today. Without waiting for the sound of that. The rose yesterday as the scattered remains were not needed. Why is that? Or he can not see? Today more than to leave. Leaving nearly half want to sell flowers, a fragrant red zone. Feel there is a garden in the back.

The next day return. Crushed like a flower then stepped on. Lao came to the crushed flowers, almost cried when holding a flower and the petals fall off just bare stigma. Quietly holding out her ragged bunch of flowers embroidered decoration going on. People on the street seemed surprised to see a lost soul guys like crazy. Petals mark the path to the house piano sound.

That will not come back anymore! The wind kept the book all go red wings, swept both memories again! Want to forget, forget. The house and the piano sound does not match remains in the subconscious. Will forget.

Suddenly disturbed. Why is he suddenly so? Not that the commission is very interested in leaving you? Or … yeah. That really opened the door without knowing look. And the person who gave flowers not see angels, the poor are just a stroll roses. Really stupid. The sound will resonate for someone like her. It turns out that the sound was also clear as the turbid life. No. Do not blame the sound. Just because people play it alone. The sound was still very very tender.

An hour of automobile braking. Turn the dial again, the last thing to see. Headlights bright glare. Agitated pedestrians. A man holding a bunch of roses to lay on the wave mango. Blood from wounds on his legs on dark red mixed batch of searing red. Strong wind. The red wing aircraft.

In the house was away from the sound of it these days, the man is a piano concrete loaded onto trucks and leave. A woman sighs. Step by step up the stairs into an empty room piano absence, suddenly saw the windowsill the roses were still blooming, were disabled, and all the roses searing long time.

Open the door, sing all down. Rose back to where it was taken up. Falling pink petals fall in the wind.

Landscape windows closed. And never opened again.