Work Text:
"I wanted to keep it forever… but no flower blooms eternal.
I’m not an artist; not like the boy is, when he’s got hands that can wield a pencil. If anything I’m a draftsman, in that I can accurately record a shape of things while I see them. But my visual work lacks a sense of life, at least to my own critical eye.
It was better than having nothing at all; I opened one of the drawers of my small desk and took out a pencil and a sheet of parchment. I sketched by the light of my lamp alone."
-izzy hands, ch7