He's a simple man, a man not so much concerned about himself as he is about those around him. He is not bold, not even slightly courageous, in fact. His posture is hunched, as if he cannot help but slouch, and he creeps through life as quietly as mice beneath the floorboards.
He is kind, one of the most generous human beings to live here so long, but he is nameless... unknown to any random passerby that even dares to glance upon his worn, old face, creased with years of attempts to please those he cared for most.
He is grand. His memory has not yet faded and his heart has not yet grown cold. Upon his shoulders lies the weight of the world, and upon his mind weighs all evil that has dared to cross his path. Yet, he does not falter; he does not speak a word of hatred; he does not fear in life what he does not understand.
inspired by the irrational and unconscious...
-Belief IS
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