(no subject)
It's not even winter in Westerly's world, much less the new year. Besides, West has very little to celebrate. The one good thing that has happened to him came at a very high cost, and he still isn't certain if it was worth it.
Tonight, the dark young man is once again hunched over the pad of thick drawing paper, sketching. Trying to think. Trying not to think. Sketching.
On the page is a river, split in two by a wooded green island. The nearer edge of the island is a sheer rock face, from which a grey stone tower rises to stand as sentinel over the waterway. One cannot see if, on the far side of the island, the split river converges again.
Tonight, the dark young man is once again hunched over the pad of thick drawing paper, sketching. Trying to think. Trying not to think. Sketching.
On the page is a river, split in two by a wooded green island. The nearer edge of the island is a sheer rock face, from which a grey stone tower rises to stand as sentinel over the waterway. One cannot see if, on the far side of the island, the split river converges again.