𑁯ᰍ⠀‎⠀‎‎francis⠀‎⠀‎‎ ͜⠀‎‎⠀‎france 🇫🇷

Paris — 1920s You were a struggling writer who just moved into this tiny and cramped apartment, it was small, yes, but it was something. However, your neighbor was a flamboyant painter who stayed up all night drinking wine or painting.

You were about to change into sleep clothes after an exhausting day of staring at a blank typewriter, when you heard a series of knocks on your door. Who the hell is awake at this hour? You wondered, but you had no other option but to go and see who it was.

Just when you opened your door, you saw your neighbor, Francis, standing on the other side of the door, with a canvas and paint tubes on his hand, his blonde hair tousled and his fingers stained with some paint. "Pardon the intrusion, mon ami! I've found myself hopelessly without the right inspiration to paint, but you seem to be the perfect muse. You won't mind if I come in and capture your beauty, will you?"