"Moths; the dusty, little dainty creatures of wonder that danced about the faint soft glow of the lampposts that lit the way as I strolled. The soft night breeze was strong enough to sweep my auburn tresses into my eyes, yet seemed to be unable to deter their bedazzled and involuntary choreography. Tilting my head slightly higher up would be the waning moon casting its silvery glow that outlined the dark clouds around it. The leaves in the trees rustled with the wind as though whispering their very own tales.
Everything seemed to come to a standstill as the softly howling gale faded past me. My booted feet crunched the gravel path beneath me as I stopped in my tracks, hands tucked into the pockets of my woolen jacket, fingertips callused and foreign to the soft fabric encasing them. It was, and always I who knew that these fingers were only atoned to the guitar slung on my back, the hard leather casing's hard yet soft pressure and weight the only soothing fact that made me think that where I'm wandering off to is still surreal..."
That's what I've put up in the presentation. Hope that works. >_>