Each day, just as the city began to wake up, Sam could be found in the square, armed with an array of eclectic materials. Skilled hands and the vision of an artist, Sam meticulously assembles items into outfits that are more than mere fashion. They were "human wearables."
Sam's creations were anthropomorphic expressions of himself. The expression of a mind.
Each day, Sam attracted a sea of intrigued spectators. They'd stretch their necks, squint their eyes, and tilt their heads, trying to decipher the work. His methods were peculiar, his end products even more so. Whispers always filled the crowd.
"Why doesn't his jacket have a sleeve?"
"Why is his hair half cut?"
"Why, Why, Why?"
Till the right question arises, "What are you creating?".
The public normally doesn't understand Sam's methods or his vision. In truth, his human wearables may seem like an enigma, a source of intrigue with more questions than answers. But isn't this what every amazing child does, provide more question than answers?
For Sam, these human wearables represented the human condition in all its complex, beautiful, and chaotic glory. They were a manifestation of his worldview - recycled, repurposed, and yet, boldly distinctive. Each object was a piece of his soul, a testament to his resilience, a testament to the beauty of eccentricity in a world too often tethered to the conventional mind.
Each day, as the city fell asleep, Sam takes a step back, observe his day's work, and smiles. It doesn't matter if people understood or not; he was creating, expressing himself in the most unconventional manner. And while his creations earned him odd looks, they also granted him a sense of purpose and satisfaction.
In the end, wasn't that what truly matters?
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