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whitman
A sweaty-toothed mad man they said - perhaps, but only in his inner most soul. One could see it creep occasionally into the man's eyes, and only then for a brief second in time. It was a glance that would burn an image into any's heart. With the quiteness and humility forgotten, a memory was formed and a genius given character and stories that could be told. And what of reality I ask? What of the good-natured, peaceful and thoughtful? Lost in a word -- legacy. A thing that surely cannot be formed by self, but by the collection of preceptions created by generations dark of knowledge. Inevitability -- The man dies and the myth lives on.
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-LIFE IS ABSURD-
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