A quiet figure walks along a path, his strides never weary, but without purpose. The scent about him one might say, smells of sandalwood, and a tinge of freshness of moist moss and soil. His eyes a shade of light brown, sweeps across the path that lay before him, blinking calmly, as if the very self contemplates on many things that have been witnessed. And yet he walks on, wondering, thinking, and letting his moment flow as it shall as far as it would.