Somewhere between the sacred silence of suffering and the slithering stutter of solace, there sits a sombre sapien, sorrowful yet satisfied. Despite his simple style and slowly-changing spirit, the sweetest song of sympathy was salient in its 'sans'. While shining, the sparkling silhouette simply shouldn't resist the sudden chance arising to snap a shot, a shifting of times he shouldn't regret. Now, his sudden semblance shaking, he decides to stand and slowly, vaguely, sits upon his seat so swiftly, someone saw it, not. To cease this simple, shallow, spurious and pseudo presupposition of a soothful man, you may simply sing the song of story, or you may call me Stu.