PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman
“The road goes ever on and on,” he quoted, land hot and still around him.
He was music. Music was him. But the rest was all just a tangle in his head. Rivers of pain, octopus arms strangling him with memories he’d never remember.
He’d come to the point where either he or the world needed to disappear.
History called it a walkabout. He prayed it would be his salvation. The scars on his wrists prayed, too, for salvation.
A thousand empty miles before him. A million broken moments behind.
He took a step and started walking.
A Writer's Life 
Music is him. Love this line
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Thank you:)
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So well written.
Empty miles of life?
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Thank you. Yes, empty miles before him – could remain empty or could be filled on the journey.
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Despite everything, there seems to be a moment of optimism here at the end. Nicely done.
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Thank you:)
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That’s pretty deep too. It seems we both wrote about characters with a tenuous grip on their own reality
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We did, didn’t we? Seems like most of my characters have that tenuous grip:)
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Every long journey begins with a single small step, including those of personal discovery. Nice one.
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Thank you. Yes, he seems to always be on one journey or another, but then he does keep growing.
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I hope his going walkabout will bring him the peace he is seeking.
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It will, at least for a time. Thanks.
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Desolate and bleak even with the music but there is a glimmer of hope.
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Thanks. Yes, always hope.
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Dear Connie,
Where there’s music there’s hope. Good one.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you.
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