Originally Posted by AL

There was a cool breeze in the air. The howl of wolfs and shirp of birds cojoined with the sweet melody of an old man's harmonica. The trails converge at the peak of a horizon. The sun settled. As the clock ticked, night came and we rested by the shadow of an oak tree. Those never-ending seconds assured an atmosphere of pain and delirium. Yet the sound of melody victoriously soothe away such physical disorder. A guitar strummed as my hand swiftly moved, a song whisper against fear and desperation. Such beutiful escape from the torments of deportation, the dazzels of ambition, and the unpredictness of death. The music continued while closing the eyes of a child, seuring the arms of a mother, bringing a smile to a father. We were lost people, but lost in rythm.