there's quiet. silence would be incorrect, but it definitely is quiet.

there's the sound of a bird chirping in the background, the gentle rumble of the activity of nature. in some ways, nature seemed more civilized and organized than humans. at least, that's what kiyo thought, the gentle scratch of her pencil on paper as she watched the evening unfold.

the sunlight was waning, but she had to wait. it wasn't the right moment yet. the light wasn't shining through the leaves like she wanted, and --

it was happening. it was almost like some kind of hyped up event, waiting for the sun to reach the right angle in the sky, almost like waiting for the curtain to lift on a much-anticipated ballet. and the rays shining through the trees in perfect alignment was like the first pirouettes of the opening night of coppélia.

and her brush ran across the canvas, a new noise introduced to the quiet cacophony of nature. she didn't allow paint to dry as she layered on colors, constantly glancing up at her subject - the world - to make sure she could capture the moment.

'impression i was certain of it. i was just telling myself that, since i was impressed, there had to be some impression in it — and what freedom, what ease of workmanship! a preliminary drawing for a wallpaper pattern is more finished than this seascape.'

she scoffed. perhaps monsieur leroy was correct, but kiyo had never been that fond of these french wallpaper patterns anyways.