Immediately he looked like an outsider. It doesn't matter what he says, nothing can convince me that his opinion has any weight. Sitting there alone, casually, soft smile on his face. Why is he here? Outsider.
The long hair, unkempt facial hair, the hole in his jeans, I know they don't mean anything; but they sure don't help. We're all products of our experiences, he can't help who he is. Shouldn't he be at school, or work? Where's his girlfriend? Why is he laughing?
You need to start when you're a kid. He's 21, maybe 22; too old to become one of them. It's a brain development thing.
After the show, on his cellphone.
He spoke with a steady, prevailing rhythm, laughing again, colloquialisms easily conjured.
He smiled as he stopped to gaze at some paintings on the wall before he left
Alone.
So it's not just music. Outsider.
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