The dust stuck to his shoes, like the syrup from his breakfast. He walked aimlessly, around and around the rusted trains and beaten tracks till his feet bled, until he could barely feel the throbbing that was stabbing in his head. He continued to march on, under freedom’s wing, he kept on walking towards the place he knew best. His shoes were torn, his clothes were dirty and dusty, but his hair and his face glowed with the determination of a man who was just thrown into life. He cried out loud, so all the cats and scrawny train dwellers and all the conductors and every living thing around could hear. He screamed out in long winded jerks “Mary...Mary...”, then only being able to whisper “come to me”, so softly that only the wind could hear his fleeting cries. He kept on walking, with a sober but slightly drunk gait, stumbling over miscellaneous trash heaps and empty bottles of long gone tears, trying to run away from the haunting memories of his own foolishness.

“Maaaaaaarrrrrrr-yyyyyyyyy.......MMMaaaaaarrr-yyyyyyyy......come to me, be with me.....The world holds us..together.. Mary, come to me, come back to me. Mary.” He tears gilded gently to the gravel, and as he slowly looked up, he saw the silhouette of his daughter. In desperation and with love stained confusion he rushed forward, his steam engines firing full speed along the tracks. The silhouette became sharper and sharper, as his feet hit harder and harder on the uneven gravel. His tears could not hold back the hardness of humanity. And through blood shot and tear soaked eyes, the silhouette became the only thing he truly feared. As their eyes met, he became ridged and cold, his body slowly turning itself into gravel and stone, the wind carrying his last whispers “Why Mary? Why?”