The guitar can only meet its full destiny when the player is brave enough to meet theirs.
Every guitar is born to sing, to make its way to those loving hands that give it such soulful caress.
In the early morning light the guitar was deep hue of caramel, the kind of brown that can melt a heart and warm a soul.
The guitar in his hands sang the language of the universe, those serenades that come to the heart in quietness and are born to us as a song.
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