Trees surrounding the campsite watch the boy and the invisible ties to his parents.

They whisper his story.

He asks drunkards still awake if they knew the whereabouts of his loved ones.

They gave vague directions to the most likely place, though there’s no way he’s getting there by foot. Even so,   determination kept him walking.

Where does he think he’s going at this hour? Does he know he’s trapped here without a key?

Ah, his hopelessness speaks volumes. His trembling hands latch on to the gate as his head slowly rests on the bars.

We spot his old man, just a couple miles abroad. 

The ties between them were still connected, however the bond they have built has forever been broken.