The Fool

Everything has a beginning. It starts with eyes meeting for the briefest of seconds.

You're slightly more than a teenager and you own no more than the clothes on your back, your lyre, your brushes, a brilliant smile and the mixed blood which has been your demise since ever. But you're an artist and it doesn't matter to you that you sleep on the marble steps of the temples as long as you can play your lyre for the kids and paint paradises on the walls of houses of the mighty.

You could've been so many different things better than a wanderer. And you will be. But for now you need to wander, you need to search. Your life passes in waiting for that one moment.

And then your eyes meet his. You never speak and never look back once you pass on a random street in a town that doesn't make sense. You've traveled for years for him though. You come to understand it. And when you settle down finally, it is with a sense of accomplishment.

This is but a prelude to eternity.