At twilight, Johnny roams the narrow streets. He passes the central square, the old church and the launderette. He walks on searching for something. When he walks, he is happy. He feels free. In tune with the rhythm of the world, his life is a melody. Recently he has come to the conclusion that he has no free will; he will be carried by this world, led along by the black strand of fate. He walks with no destination, following only his sense of psycho-geography, drawn to certain areas like a moth. Right now, all he wants is a place to sit, to have a sip of water. He has been walking for a while now. He settles into a wooden bench, spreading his long arms across its wooden back.