The Old Man in the Park (Emotional Art) 16 06 p.m. August 29, 2016 T.

Dube
3 Binton Road Greystone Park, resides my three cousins and I. Two of my cousins, were
employed, so they both work in town. One Monday, Darrel was having a good time with his
girlfriend, who had just came to visit for the weekend, and I was evidently one loner in the
house. In actuality, obtaining a day job was clearly a mystery. Apparently, it was to my
submission that I was officially unemployed.
The atmosphere was noticeably windy. Feeling like I had to take a walk, I made my way straight
to the Park nearby, just to fantasize with nature. Though I really enjoyed putting my eyes on the
waters in the deep, the lake had dried off, with the earths crust cracked like it was struck by
lightning. The city in its entity, had had the worst rains. When thunder came, it never rained cats
and dogs.
As a disappointed, enthusiastic, young man, I still yet decided to explore the preservative. A pair
of binoculars and complementarily a Kodak video camera hooked all around my neck. Honestly,
it was my very first time to visit it, but had so well imagined it. As if that was not enough, my
imagination was surely too shallow, just like the focus of a horse with blinkers. At first, I could
not believe my sight, when my eyes saw a completely grey headed old character, who could not
even walk uprightly. Hello, I borrowed his attention. I am trying hard and do not be scared
son, he responded to my relief.
The character was half naked. He was in filthy, dirty pants and sneakers, with no shirt. His
darken spotted, scratched, wrinkled skin was miserably to my sympathy. I could see that he was
poverty striken. Are you not being irritated by the whistling cold wind, I found myself
anxiously probing. I am used son, he insisted. He was trying to fetch some fire wood logs.
With no axe, he was fully equipped. I still wonder how I could not give a hand. I bet I should
have never took a photo of him.