"those who hear not the music think the dancers mad"...

I hear the heat, gently roar through the house, the quiet click of computer keys and the every once in a while drive-by motor-car.
The sun's gone to bed, the left over cool blue hue of the sky, slowly dissipates darker and darker till all that will be left is a nothing shadow, a blanket of cold night cloaking these streets, lonely people and naughty strangers.
Motivated by sound, I sit, listening to him, listening to something, watch his tear streaked face as he contemplates and re-lives his memories. My "Mad Leprechaun", dizzy disturbing sounds, I do not understand him, yet,
I join in his song