The sun is setting on a stranger shore. The horizon with eyes
full of loneliness glances down as if to tell a story stranger
than that of the estranged. A story of a painter, a blind kid, a
tornado and his friend, a dumb piper, a quite lake, a wooden
boat, a lady and her myriad faces. A story which is in my head
locked up and the key of which is lost in the depth of my heart.