In the silence, I stared at him, the solo performer on stage, who was singing a slow, sad song, completely forgetting where I was at the moment. Not knowing we were standing downstage, watching the performance, I ignored the crowd that separated me from him, but was instead alone, face to face with him, hearing him sing just for me. Yet, it was more than that. He seemed more like he was whispering softly to someone who only existed in the nothingness that I could see. By the time the guitarist of the accompanying band played the last note of the song with the plectrum, his melancholic violet eyes caught all my sight, including the corner of my eyes. Everything in my spirit centred on him. I stared at him so hard that I felt my eyes could penetrate his soul, which I was unwilling to read on my ability for inner information. In return, he was gazing at me with full attention, eyes appearing to be filled with tears. A myriad of emotions that welled up inside my heart was as chaotic as delicate nerves twisting around the same needle. Wherefore art thou grieving thus, for as though hast tasted ten thousand years alone. I wondered. There were a thousand stories he read from my eyes. It was the past and the future where we could have met and occurred in the infinite parallel universes.