The fact was this: people don’t change, they become stealthier at hiding their true selves. A cloak of decadent and distracting colors if you will.
I often think about the man on the moon. Who is he? What did he do? Where does he go to get his coffee? The unanswered questions radiate through my mind penetrating every solitary crevice of my sanity.
Who was Xavier? The ambiguity played connect the dots with the rain drops as they formed on the window pane. Through fogged covered glass and an autumn palette decorating the landscape, I stare aimlessly into the mid-afternoon sky.
Who is Xavier, more so, what is Xavier? Xavier is a supernatural entity that finds a way into even the strongest of minds. Acting upon repressed urges and hidden thoughts, a Xavier finds his way into the heart, and into the boudoir.
Head leaned against the window, I watch the rain drip down the window pane. Driving by moving people and an urban landscape, I stare out at the city before me. Through each drop of rain, subtle nuances of the past drip down the pane. Looking up from my comfortable position, I notice that the UBER…