walking wilson came to realize the road never ends. in the quiet crunch of expression he heard the voices of unwritten stories migrate in a rustling cacophony of untethered leaves blowing in the raw wind of a calm day. camoflaged the shifting spark motivated the report reflected in the stirring sound of birds illuminate a will he clearly comprehended not. spilling over the crowd of forgotten figures soon stopped his forward motion with a desire to affect his untouched story silent in the scattering seconds. disturbing the darkness began a patronizing story with a single purpose to weaken his way. hungry for a smoke he smiled and sat on a soft stone of scrutiny watching and waiting.