The bandit wandered endlessly, never staying long. Love touched his life in fleeting moments—a soft gaze, a quiet night—but he always left before dawn.
He sought something he couldn't name, though it felt like love. Yet every time he found it, he slipped away, as if pulled by an invisible thread.
Sometimes, in the quiet of the desert, he swore he heard her voice, or saw her in the stars. But it was always just beyond his reach.
He kept riding, chasing a feeling he’d never hold, but couldn’t let go…
