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Prologue: the Neglected ArtistWinter, 2012More Like This
The room is far from bare and empty, but the tenderness of another presence is long past gone. He sits, looking at a harsh light until he staggers. Sipping away his problems. Getting distracted easily. Far from bare and empty, there is fuddle, mess, shackles of laziness and ignorance. (Perhaps fear, too)
The boy, ash-ridden, and no longer a boy, stares at the clock, fervently. Thinking that, if he stares at it long enough, believes hard enough, that it'll reverse. But you know it won't, dear. For you've made him realize how there is no hope for the boy. A dim ceiling fan murks around the grey, easing itself towards a small ca
Sta.sh
