Mr Traveler ( An extra post from the Scotland trip)

This is a post which is solely consist of my imagination and the monologues i have in my mind when i saw this perfect stranger in this foreign land. I shall call him Mr Traveler.

I think i do have guitarist-fetish, i realized that my eyes always drawn to some lads wearing torn jean carrying a guitar walking on the street. The same magic worked on me that night the first instant i saw Mr traveler.

Mr traveler was sitting beside my double decker bedsit when i first check-in into the dorm. It was quite weird that a young man like him seems to have no place to go on Thursday night in a city like edinburgh. Lying on his bed, he was playing guitar leasurely, ignoring the blasting music and tempting neon light from the bars just beside the hostel. He was fully absorbed in his own world, not even realizing there were some chinese girls move into the bedsits beside his, or he just dont give a damn to the presence of any human being in the room.

"which country he came from? Why was he alone? what song was he playing?"

curiosity continue to flood me.

So here i am, sitting on my bed, wearing my comfortable pyjamas, stealing a look at Mr traveler who busied dwelling in his own dimension. The dim light shone on his back, even his shadows smell of loneliness.

I guess this the life of a traveler. No destination, no friends, no fancy clothes.... just a loner and a guitar. Arriving alone in some smelly dirty city on the far side of the planet where no one speaks anything even resembling your language, with no hotel reservation, no idea when will the next shower be.... It may sounded pitiful from that kind of perspective. However, maybe this is just the life they desired for, no string attached, no commitment, no relationship, no 8am to 5pm job a day... just the sky above and the solid ground underneath as their home.

Somehow he reminds me of Ray Lamontagne, singing 'trouble' under the street light.

Mr Traveler was already slept soundly the next day when me and the girls came back from late night Jazz bar. Again, me and Mr Traveler sleep in the same room with no hello, by the way my name is susan. I guess now you know the ending of the story of the traveler. (Anyway, if you still dont know what this story is all about, let me remind you this is a boring story of strangers in a foreign city which their life will never intersect with each other). Alas, I didnt worked up the nerve to approach him. I guess it takes two of a kind to get things sparkle. Deep inside, I knew I wouldn't be the one to approach a complete stranger. i am no traveler material, i am just a typical girl loves nice holiday and vacation but never loneliness.