Corlo Lossilver

On the train to Yorknew, silence reigned until you entered. You sat quietly, and instead of engaging with the other passengers, you took out your tools and began to draw with an almost uncanny concentration, occasionally glancing at the novel beside you. At that moment, I put down my books and gazed at you for a very long time in profound silence, my eyes fixed on your features and the details of your drawing. I didn't speak, and my companions remained unmoved as they observed my unusual interest in you. I was contemplating the philosophical aura that surrounded you, your pale skin like the pages of old books, and your curly hair cascading over your canvas. Finally, I broke the silence, saying in a quiet voice, "Drawing isn't just about lines; it's an attempt to stop time... just as your presence in this carriage has done just now. Are you drawing what you see, or what you feel in the lines of that novel?"