The Man In The Corner [Creative Description]

Every morning I would always go to town to collect the day’s bearings for my family and start my work. Everyday was no different as my eyes followed the road they were always drawn to the corner at the end of the street. Why was that man there? Did no one care for him? I could almost see the pain and suffering in his heart portrayed as a mask on his face. Shielded from the world he was always pressed up against the wall. Blending in I sometimes wondering if he was even there. With a high pitch and serial sound he would whistle and hum some ancient tune. I suspect it was what his family taught him. Was he mad or lonely -that was always the question racing through my mind? Footsteps passed and window glances always came to pass but he never seemed to care. The memory that he could hold onto was the only reason he remained sitting there