Hugo noted the nod, and assuming that was his go-ahead, he let the music in his head back off of its leash -- a slow jazz piano piece. He found himself nodding along and gesturing with his pipe as though he were the conductor in charge of the piece.

Some humming and foot tapping set the rhythm of what was to follow, and he began to speak. The poem was a short one, but it carried power with it.

[color=a187be]"From far away have I come to this place,
With the feelings of love and joy at my back.
Alarm, though, I have seen at the sight of my face,
And I know now I yet have to go far."[/color]

He hadn't moved an inch, and despite the small audience watching him, he was just as the poem said - quite far away. Nobody had blinked, and yet there he was, standing on the other side of the courtyard as though he had been there all along. A ghostly spotlight was shining on him with no visible source, casting images of pink flower petals upon a field of incandescent white.

The lights faded a few moments later, and he slowly started making his way back.