Seven Wishes IV

He was a perfect stranger, a complete unknown. An apparition on the streets… occasionally seen on timid corners, conversing with bizarre types. A man sitting alone in dusky corners in destitute cafes, silently writing in eccentric hand. Some say he was a treacherous madman from uncharted provenance, others rumoured of a brilliant holy man. He had no alias… he was an alibi. He was a sailor who stood on deck at night, whistling strange songs from his homeland… some say he had killed a man in the Northern territories. He was a sentence where every word and position had a meaning… he was a language that was heavily mortgaged. The nameless actor had brought the house to unstoppable tears; when they searched for him in his dressing room, he was gone. He was a desert sunset (again).