It is night. A fresh and happy night. It is a night at South Beach. The clubs are filled to the rim and once exotic, but now used pineapple drinks are floating in the ocean. This is a special day for some people. A day you would want to use your most grandiose pants, along with your new polished shoes. One of those days everything matters, and nothing can bring you down. But in the same way, it is a tense day. More tense than both super bowl and the world cup final added together and put in a jar just waiting to explode. One of those days.  

A man is sitting alone in the sand. He is a humble, yet adventurous old man. This is a day he should of been looking forward to. This is his special day. But judging by the look of his face, one can feel he does not belong. He asks himself why he is really here. You understand, he is a man of moments. He appreciates people. Sitting down with people. Listening to people. Real people. In his mind, he was never anything special. He just got lucky. Yet he is here. Waiting to be awarded. To be something special. Something special for some people. But not real people.

He is sitting in the dry sand and imagines the pale city light behind him, slightly reflected in the tiered ocean floor. He feels calm and confident, but a feeling of sadness is growing within him. There is a boat breaking the view in front of him. He can hear it, but not see it. It catches his attention by its odd sound. The water is still and clear but the boat seem to break the water in the rhythm of the first five seconds of his own song. A song he wrote and now getting a price for. Wonder what the boats name could be. He wonders how it is to be out there, watching the long shoreline of this artificial beach. Does it look just as plastic as it is? He wonders who they are. Why they are here. Would they estimate who he is, based on what he has done? Or would they just take him for a simple man? A sudden burst of light seem to appear in his eyes. It is dark but still bright. An intense pressure he never felt before. The sadness is vanished and the old mans craving for adventures takes off. Gently he unties his gleaming shoes and flicks them in the sand. His face looks firm and the old man starts to swim, realising the boat might be far, far out. But he is proud. He does not live in a pastime paradise.