Master of anal rhyme and chimeras

Master of anal rhyme looked shabby. He had a long and straight hair like the sun's rays. He preferred to wear a hat and cloak. Also the master had a cane, but he never used it. He just possessed it in his pleasure. Even more the master has a smoking pipe but he did not smoke. If you think about it, then you may have been noticed that the master had a lot of things that he did use properly. Although, of course, on one would have dared to call master a collector. If the master had ever collected something it definitely would not be the things. Master liked to fantasize. Sitting in the far corner in the cafe, he dug his eyes and listened to conversations around him. Over time, the words flowed into unintelligible mumbling. And before the inner look of the master rendered different pictures. Today he was in the hut of an Indian shaman. Not clear murmuring from the left, melodious voice a little further to the right - reminiscent of a spell. Barely audible, but clear conversation somewhere far away from the wall - family members who gathered around the campfire, whispering, worrying. The master immersed in these fantasies as a whole. So deep that he felt an unpleasant smell of burnt ingredients and the fear of others. A few minutes later he came to himself and wash away the remnants of chimera by gulping spiced tea.