The large casement windows provided the sole source of light in the spacious room, illuminating a floor marked with smears and stains. The walls bore witness to paintings and remnants of a once-beautiful past. While the home had been physically restored, the warmth and light seemed irretrievable, even with widened casements. Drapes, no matter how flattering, couldn't replace the lingering silence. In this setting, the artist sat before his canvas, channelling his thoughts and emotions onto the empty space before his eyes. With his long hair tied up in a man bun, he aggressively painted onto the blank wooden canvas, infusing it with colours that echoed his emotions, pain, and aggression. Though the artist had kindled a lantern of hope within himself but the darkness was too vast to be replaced by a mere spark. Every day, he awoke in a space brimming with reminiscences of his beloved, stern in his commitment to create a better piece with every passing day. The paintings and that one beautiful sculpture, resembling the actual brunet, made his home a haven, a place he couldn't bear to leave. The creation of these artworks became an unstoppable force. A mere glimpse of these masterpieces provided him with comfort and tranquillity, a solace missing in the rest of the world. He could theoretically forget the brunet, burn down his belongings, and start anew like everyone else. It would definitely take some time but he just could do it like everyone else.