He sits inside with his second cup of coffee drunk from, a few tattered books and magazines at his elbow for perusal, and what seems to be a few sheaths of blank parchment, an ink well and a quill in his hand. Happy to be out of the way and otherwise content, his intention is to write. Currently, however, he is looking at the ceiling-tall aquarium with either intent interest in the starfish and other creatures inside, or his mind has gone off on some other tangent entirely, and that's just where his eyesight landed.
Ink drops from quill tip, ruining his page, and gaining his attention. It's dabbed up with the sleeve of his jacket.
an afternoon // queequeg's
He sits inside with his second cup of coffee drunk from, a few tattered books and magazines at his elbow for perusal, and what seems to be a few sheaths of blank parchment, an ink well and a quill in his hand. Happy to be out of the way and otherwise content, his intention is to write. Currently, however, he is looking at the ceiling-tall aquarium with either intent interest in the starfish and other creatures inside, or his mind has gone off on some other tangent entirely, and that's just where his eyesight landed.
Ink drops from quill tip, ruining his page, and gaining his attention. It's dabbed up with the sleeve of his jacket.