Fishing: a chance to take the worries of the world off your shoulders, toss them into the river, and watch as they drift dreamily downstream. A chance to truly feel at ease and at peace with the world.
Not for Cliff. Look at those eyes.
You should be happy Cliff, your eyes should exude warmth. But they’re not exuding warmth are they Cliff? No. They are lifeless. They are a pair of blackened windows to your hollow soul.
A haunting look of dejection.
You almost got away with this one, Cliff.
I almost failed to notice the look of total capitulation in your eyes.
At first glance he looks happy. But if you look closely, if you really search his eyes for signs of life, you soon realise that he is dead inside.
What’s wrong Cliff? Your smile belies the inner turmoil you’re suffering. It’s all in those eyes, Cliff. You look so horribly worried. What dark burden are you carrying?
I don’t even like horses. It’s late. I’m tired. So tired…
Smile says: “I like these hands on my back.”
Eyes say: “Help me!”