"Sir Micael! We just arrived Southwark!" someone shouted before his eyes went awoke, and with his grey-looking eyes, the chauffeur was looking down into Micael's from the outside window as he was holding the carriage into a halt, and Micael's eyes went open.
"Where are we?" Micael followed with his sleepy voice coming out from his lips, and he was not reminded of time though he was into remembering it, but he couldn't, and there he was clueless. "Southwark school of music, m'lord. This is where I will be seeing you after your schedule, and you must not waste your time, and some are not that friendly unto new neighbors they have," the chauffeur followed with his lips, and it sounded like he was bombinating as he was talking, and Micael's eyes were hit by the glaring rays of the sun, and his hand then moved above of his forehead to at least block the light hitting his eyes, but it had helped him into realizing he was in time.
"Oh? What time is it?"
q"It is… ten past eleven, m'lord. You're about to be late!". Micael's eyes grew and he went awoke once more. He then quickly scurried about the door of the omnibus situated at its butt, and then opened it quickly as he was holding the black leather attaché case with his left hand and his right pushing the door outwards, and then it went open, and then quickly let the heels of his shoes into hugging the grey pavements of the British streets, and he quickly went across it, as the gates of the school was waiting for his presence past the street.
"Do not forget, m-" the chauffeur shouted as he saw Micael quickly rushing towards the gate of the Southwark school, and Micael cut his voice as he was passing one racing carriage after another, and he was lucky he was never hit by any, and only winds would be mean to slap.
"Sure do, sir! You may find yourself comfortable," he followed while his hands waving to the chauffeur as his torso was quite turned, and then he turned back to the school's front without looking at the chauffeur's response, and his feet started to slow down as he stare down the long hallway waiting afront him.
With his head, he looked at the span of the street just before it turns, and there, he saw flags hanging from horizontal poles stuck into the high walls separating the school from the streets, with the logo of an eagle right at the center, as if it was soaring. The eagle was inscribed in a circle made out of grey wreath and with gray feathers falling down his head, words were then attached from the very bottom of its claws: TO SOAR IS TO BELIEVE written in cursive and a dark blue ink. The flag was no different, either, as it was filled with light blue colors from the behind up to the very circumference of the eagle-contained wreath, and with the street lights following each flag, he then looked forward of him with his glassed eyes, and went on.
The arch was huge. High enough to fit two ten-foot-high carriages and wide enough to fit fifteen of his span, and he walked towards the entrance of the school and from his sight, he could see guards, and the sides were no escape from his eyes, and as his head started turned back and forth from left to right, he could see a lot of different things.
His attaché case started to swing with his hand gently as he looked. There were posters. A lot of them. They were just paintings of the different facilities past the white gates, but he never bothered into looking, and continued on walking. Some of the paintings were guitars, violins, and different instruments of which he knew he could use, and excel around classes. The auditorium, of course. He always wanted to perform inside British columns and walls, and there he proceeded walking as he wanted to see the paintings with his very eyes, not with his thoughts.
The wide hallways seemed to span with a distance of more than twenty feet, and this time, Micael was aware and known of, and he reached the very entrance of the school, and beyond the guards was another hallway with passages into its left and right, and he knew it was never going to be easy as he had never read the guide given to him, but he went on.
Afront of the guards, he was asked to bring his case above the desk situated from their besides, and Micael wasted no time into grabbing his card from his pocket, and then talked into a nice, and a wise way in order to be one.
"G'day," Micael uttered, and the guards in light blue uniform and black headdress quickly noticed his accent which was very different from theirs, and one of them quickly talked as the other guard was checking his case.
"You're quite from a different place I know I haven't been into, sir," the guard followed with his own talking, and Micael had quickly replied with his voice atop of his head and with confidence he could find below his belt.
"I am, mate. I just came here in Southwark awhile, and I am from Melbourne, Australia, and yes, I am quite in a hurry. My classes will start in around a hurry," Micael followed and then grabbed the instructions coming from his pocket, and then read it aloud in front of the guards, while the other had just done looking around his attaché.
"Where's this A-12 room at? Beg my pardon, m'lords but I am quite new around here." "Two corners past from our stand-abouts, and turn right. At the very end of the hallway is A-12." "Thank you," Micael uttered as he grabbed his black attaché case held back into his left hand and went past to the guards' positions, and his card and the instructions hidden back to his pockets, he seemed quite relieved.
He fixed his glasses with his right fingers as he straightened his back once more, and then walked gently with the heels of his black dress shoes punching the cream-tiled floor one after another, and some of the daylight rays coming from the sun were not able to reach his face as the hallway was finally roofed, and he continued walking.
...