The man with eyes strangled on the cloudy sky, wondered. Not of the present day but of the ones that made him capable of what he can do today. What life had taught was true, yet how it taught him was painful. In all his life what he could remember was two things at most, of him being miserably frightful and of him taking that one decision, of being changing himself to one he is now. His eyes now dragged on by his own image in the mirror, what his eyes saw was not just another man in some ordinary suit, but a man wearing a dress of his own making. What makes a man's suit special? Is it its materiel? the feel it gives? certainly they matters but not quite accurate. The suits tells more about the man wearing than about itself. The man know the struggles so does his suit. Because its something designed and made by the man himself. Those fine cloths are defined by each and every struggle the man had gone through. Those fine stitching defines his decisions he had take at those moments. Those flawless finishing defines his highly polished capabilities. Those cloths around his shoulders define his abilities to take on the burdens of life. And hence that suit defines the quality of the man who is wearing it. One certainly doesn't buy and wear a suit. One earns it, not with money but with quality.
What a man sees in his suit as his hard fingers sliding to the buttons at the end of his sleeves, he sees his self being what he is today and what made him what he is today. It reminds him of what he is capable of. It reminds him of his mistakes and what he did to change that. It reminds him of hope when none stood by him. Its an armor that shouts to him of what he is today. Most of all what a suit whispers to him is that yes finally, he is special, special to someone perhaps to oneself, yet someone special. Sometime that is all one ever needs and it matters a lot perhaps everything.
