Noah was drawing on the wall for a long time. With an eraser in his hand, he repeatedly rubbed out what he had drawn and then re-drew it in a more detailed manner. Mrs Bishop periodically brought him cups of tea. There were two deep indentations in the sofa from where his small feet stood, his white socks creating an unusual contrast against the colour of the leather. Moses frowned when he saw the sofa. He would have to try and encourage those areas to rise again later. However annoyed he was at the defilement of the sofa, Moses watched Noah with interest. He had never seen someone drawing on a wall before, and it was a source of amusement to him. Mrs Bishop stood next to him and made comments.
"Ooh, isn't he talented, Moses? To think - a true artist at work, in this flat!" She continued in this manner for quite some time, and Moses tried to make the right noises in the correct intervals, but he was not paying attention to her.
Noah was completely silent as he worked, the only noise aside from Mrs Bishop's incessant babbling and Moses' occasional 'mmm's and 'yuh's was the sound of the pencil making contact with the surface of the wall. It created the most beautiful patterns, as Noah's masterpiece came to life. For hours he stood there, drawing, perfecting every last detail. Mrs Bishop would leave the flat from time to time and then return to see how it was progressing, and Moses paced the flat and occupied himself by rearranging his books on his shelf. He tried to pretend that he was not interested in what was happening - Noah could stand on his sofa and doodle on his wall forever for all he cared; Moses was a serious antiques dealer, and he didn't care much for this 'modern art'. In 70 years or so, maybe - then he could claim it as 'antique' and be seen to take an interest in it. But for now, he must just sit, with his handmade brass goggles attached to his face, gazing intently at a genuine, 1930's Tiffany lamp-
There was a sudden thump, and Moses' head snapped to the left to see what had made the noise. Noah had hopped down off the sofa and was stepping back to admire his art. Moses crept over, and stood next to him to help him admire it.
"What do you think, Moses? Do you think it complements the room?" He asked, looking for his flatmate's approval more than anything else.
"Oh, it'll do, I suppose. I guess it brings your contemporary influence to my more refined tastes." Noah looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head. He could tell that Moses liked it really, he just wasn't prepared to say.
"Very well. I'll get the paints tomorrow, and I'll see how much I can get done."
"Ok."
"Oh! Isn't it a masterpiece! Such talent! I just love it!" Mrs Bishop exclaimed, having apparently just entered the flat. "Noah, you should be famous! Such skill! Such insight!" This was almost as bad as Moses' bland review.
"Mrs Bishop - you are too kind."
"Ooh, isn't he talented, Moses? To think - a true artist at work, in this flat!" She continued in this manner for quite some time, and Moses tried to make the right noises in the correct intervals, but he was not paying attention to her.
Noah was completely silent as he worked, the only noise aside from Mrs Bishop's incessant babbling and Moses' occasional 'mmm's and 'yuh's was the sound of the pencil making contact with the surface of the wall. It created the most beautiful patterns, as Noah's masterpiece came to life. For hours he stood there, drawing, perfecting every last detail. Mrs Bishop would leave the flat from time to time and then return to see how it was progressing, and Moses paced the flat and occupied himself by rearranging his books on his shelf. He tried to pretend that he was not interested in what was happening - Noah could stand on his sofa and doodle on his wall forever for all he cared; Moses was a serious antiques dealer, and he didn't care much for this 'modern art'. In 70 years or so, maybe - then he could claim it as 'antique' and be seen to take an interest in it. But for now, he must just sit, with his handmade brass goggles attached to his face, gazing intently at a genuine, 1930's Tiffany lamp-
There was a sudden thump, and Moses' head snapped to the left to see what had made the noise. Noah had hopped down off the sofa and was stepping back to admire his art. Moses crept over, and stood next to him to help him admire it.
"What do you think, Moses? Do you think it complements the room?" He asked, looking for his flatmate's approval more than anything else.
"Oh, it'll do, I suppose. I guess it brings your contemporary influence to my more refined tastes." Noah looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head. He could tell that Moses liked it really, he just wasn't prepared to say.
"Very well. I'll get the paints tomorrow, and I'll see how much I can get done."
"Ok."
"Oh! Isn't it a masterpiece! Such talent! I just love it!" Mrs Bishop exclaimed, having apparently just entered the flat. "Noah, you should be famous! Such skill! Such insight!" This was almost as bad as Moses' bland review.
"Mrs Bishop - you are too kind."