He is tired, he has put his pen to rest now. Sweating from top to bottom, the artist is exhausted. The way he drew that girl's picture, I just want him to draw a picture of me with him. But I don't know why he is sad. He is just as beautiful as the reflection of the moon on water. He is there, but I can't reach him. I just want to know how artistic his hands are. Is he an artist of life too? Can he create good memories with me? But now the artist is tired and sleepy. I can't describe his talent; it's way beyond my vocabulary. But my artist is not happy. I guess God painted black in his life. Yet, he is the moon in his dark life. I just want to be the star, so we can shine together. Still, he is sad. I don't have the courage to ask, but I can write and keep. I just want to close my eyes; I know I can't see him again in my life. His eyes, I can't bear. But he is sad. My heart is telling me to ask, but my mind is contrary. I can see his sadness and tiredness in his eyes. The color of his shirt is contrary to his feelings. Why can't I stop myself from admiring him? He deserves that. His hands show his talent. I don't know whether he has anyone to share his talent with, to share his art, to express his feelings. I just want to look at him one more time, but I have no courage. He is checking his watch; I guess it's time to say goodbye to the artist. He is sharing his way home with a man. I just want him to share it with me. I know I can't reach him, but I deliberately want him to smile. I want to admire his smiling face, to enjoy his happiness. I pray to God, who has given happiness to others, to give him more. He's the perfect artist I've ever seen in my life."


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