02.09.05

That is no magic

His deep red face and fair grey hair distinguished him immediately. Then, as the introduction went on, he smiled and nodded amiably, his eyes twinkling. This was a little boy in front of us, wearing this blazer and this starched shirt.
Then he spoke.
His voice changed the energy of the room. It changed the physical structure, and you could feel it and the tendrils growing between you and him. I feel in love with him a bit. That and how you could see that he felt it too, how this was something beyond him and that he was just a messenger, just lucky to be a part of it. The face of the true acolyte beams radiance and a beauty that is hard to justify.
With him, you think, here is this portly red faced man, who is old and so improperly dressed, but that melts away. All that is left is the love you felt for him and his words. The wonder that this man has known everything about you, had undressed you with his grammar and his diction without looking at you once. This is one called beyond himself. It is a hard thing to miss.

shi-ou-sama at 8:23 p.m.

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