If you ever pass this house on 23 silverdores street, your sight will be mesmerized. A red checkered pattern clock hangs on a thin piece of string that stretches across the front yard from one end to the other. It just hangs there, every day, every night, every year, it just hangs like the last item to be sold at a shop. The owner never seems to give any attention to it, walks by without any acknowledgement that it's even there, the cloak is treated it is invisible. If the cloak seem to have a mind of its own, has it's own eyes , hear every sound and have a saying, you may hear it cry every night. Thee sound of sorrow, the feeling for hope and the taste for a somewhat friend, is being all cried out by a cloak. Just you imagine, imagine that the whole world circles around you without saying a word to you or acknowledging that your there. Every now and then it would get frustrating to see that your world seem to be abandoned and that there is no one to pick you up from that thin piece of string hanging from one end to another and take you home.