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Description
inexplicable

There are many things that happen to us which we are unable to explain.

A small boy walks along the street, kicking at rocks, his hands in his pockets. His hair is the colour of captured sunlight, and it flutters in the wind. He is the sort of boy that makes you smile when you see him, because he is always smiling himself. For him it is startlingly easy to love, because his heart is so young, innocent, pure - almost heartbreakingly so, because such perfect things can never last.

A lanky teenager drifts down the same street, both of them a little older, a little wiser, and maybe a little worse for the wear. The edges of his mouth still crinkle when he smiles, but he does so a fraction less often, for he has learned the meaning of a thing called heartbreak. Even so, he is still hopelessly in love, and that love ripples in his eyes and pierces through his soul. Perhaps less innocent, but still breathless, awestruck.

A young man watches his feet hit the ground, one after another. Inside, his emotions are at war. Sometimes one will gain over the other, and then just as quickly, their places are reversed: not unlike his feet changing places in steady rhythm. He is not sure of who he is anymore. Childhood innocence has long since disappeared and instead is replaced by a kind of weary resignation - to losing his happiness, to losing the one he loved, to losing himself.

An old, wrinkled man slowly advances along the end of the street. He is in no great hurry to go anywhere now, because he has long ago stopped living for anything. His face bears a deep sadness, the indelible mark of losing a true love twice. He is not afraid, and he lets the silent tears slide down his cheeks.

One hits the ground.

The small boy and the old man look up and into each other's eyes, and in the clear blue they both see something alien to their lives. The boy has never seen such despair, and it has been many years since the old man has encountered such boundless purity. In each of them, something irreversibly changes.

Then it is gone, the moment past - and all that is left is a single tear running in the cracks, testament to a life spent fighting for true love ... testament to the old man, still valiantly struggling - even with the knowledge that this time, he has lost forever.

Description
inexplicable

There are many things that happen to us which we are unable to explain.

A small boy walks along the street, kicking at rocks, his hands in his pockets. His hair is the colour of captured sunlight, and it flutters in the wind. He is the sort of boy that makes you smile when you see him, because he is always smiling himself. For him it is startlingly easy to love, because his heart is so young, innocent, pure - almost heartbreakingly so, because such perfect things can never last.

A lanky teenager drifts down the same street, both of them a little older, a little wiser, and maybe a little worse for the wear. The edges of his mouth still crinkle when he smiles, but he does so a fraction less often, for he has learned the meaning of a thing called heartbreak. Even so, he is still hopelessly in love, and that love ripples in his eyes and pierces through his soul. Perhaps less innocent, but still breathless, awestruck.

A young man watches his feet hit the ground, one after another. Inside, his emotions are at war. Sometimes one will gain over the other, and then just as quickly, their places are reversed: not unlike his feet changing places in steady rhythm. He is not sure of who he is anymore. Childhood innocence has long since disappeared and instead is replaced by a kind of weary resignation - to losing his happiness, to losing the one he loved, to losing himself.

An old, wrinkled man slowly advances along the end of the street. He is in no great hurry to go anywhere now, because he has long ago stopped living for anything. His face bears a deep sadness, the indelible mark of losing a true love twice. He is not afraid, and he lets the silent tears slide down his cheeks.

One hits the ground.

The small boy and the old man look up and into each other's eyes, and in the clear blue they both see something alien to their lives. The boy has never seen such despair, and it has been many years since the old man has encountered such boundless purity. In each of them, something irreversibly changes.

Then it is gone, the moment past - and all that is left is a single tear running in the cracks, testament to a life spent fighting for true love ... testament to the old man, still valiantly struggling - even with the knowledge that this time, he has lost forever.