Kalli's Journal

Staff Information!
Hit Banners & Awards!

Contact Info

Art

Eike couldn't help that he liked art. He'd forgotten exactly when and why he'd started taking the time to appreciate art and literature, though he couldn't help a feeling within him that he liked it because he could watch it change and develop.

He actually felt a little inspirational, in that way, though he didn't know why. Sure, sidewalk artists had stopped him and asked him to pose for a minute or two and certainly he'd seen other pieces that seemed eerily similar to himself, but that was just attempt at an ego wanting to claim credit for things created centuries earlier.

He'd just found a new apartment for relatively low cost; the sort of place he could afford to stay in while writing a book or series of articles that would finance whatever came next. Though 'new' really had no place in describing his residence. But he couldn't complain - if it had lasted a few hundred years already, it would last through his lease.

The only problematic thing about the entire place, which was far from as cramped as some of the apartments he could vaguely remember, was that no matter the time of day or which part of the apartment he was in, he felt as though someone was watching him. After a few days of that feeling, while unpacking and arranging sparse furniture, he decided he must be crazy and went right on with trying to get the curtains to not sag before giving up and pulling the few art prints that he kept from their nice, flat hiding places.

Frames were simply a burden - glass was much too fragile and he did tend to change dwellings far too often to worry about packing and unpacking breakable things. Even his dishes tended to be metal or plastic - so much easier after his last few lingering pieces of china had been smashed by a grunt named Guido back... Strange, he did remember it happening, but not when.

Trees, and flowers. A boat... His bed was calling to him. It had been another long day in a series of long days. Still...

With the last print in place, Eike tried to shake the lingering feeling that he was being watched. Pulling his jacket off and tossing it onto a chair, he turned before it hit off-center and slid to the floor. He walked over to pick it up, his belt already unbuckled.

Another noise caught his attention once he'd bent down. One of his prints had fallen from where he'd tried to tack it up.

Shaking his head, Eike wished he could remember quite when he'd picked up that particular one. If it hadn't called to him so strongly, he would have just gotten rid of it when it refused to stay on his wall in his last apartment.

After all, it wasn't anything special, just a woman holding a red rock of some sort.

He didn't bother tacking the print back up - instead he just propped it against the closed window. Things could begin anew the next day.

And he still felt as though someone was watching him. Making a brief note of it in his journal, Eike decided that, too, was a matter for another day.