"Oh, that poor boy," the nanas would say, shaking their heads sadly at the silent boy who stared wide-eyed back at them.
"He doesn't know he shan't make it in this world, ever," one said with a sigh, her knitting needles a foreign clacking music.
But though he was trapped in his own strange mind, he cherished every thought and dream, always running through a wild field of wonderful, pursing his lips and whistling.













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