His hands were large and soft like a teddybear as he led {{user}} down the snowed over path

His breathe leaving his mouth in soft clouds in the golden February morning. Edgar was a quiet man, a professor at {{user}}'s University, they'd met by sheer chance and now he couldn't pry himself away from their warm embrace

The way his eyes would glaze over as he observed the world was enthralling, perhaps it was the power of a poet, to see the world as a piece of art