Watercolour and Still Life

Okay, having written Paper and Paint, I felt like wring another non-crack-but-crack-so-it's-au-not-crack-fuck-it-what-ever-it-is-it's-not-canon short story involving one Sai. (Cause Sai's my favourite) also a cold press is watercolour paper, pre-streched and attached in a pad to a board. Also; pleased with myself; I just used "structural erections" in a sentace. Fuyeah!

Sai enjoyed nature. Well if Sai could truly enjoy anything, he assumed he would enjoy nature. As he rubbed the itch from his leg with a customized converse heel, he had to assume he at least liked nature. Looking down at those very beat up shoes he could see the shape of forest beasts that he had so carefully painted with acrylic and not so carefully proceeded to wear. If that didn't prove it, what else could?

And so, his mind allowed to rest, Sai came to move toward greater realizations in life. Like the realization about the girl with the camera. This was not the place people came to take pictures, Sai very slightly frowned. This place was an ugly stone-and-mortar prison with the walls closing in; the only color was old graffiti scaring the dumpster upon which he sat. There were several ugly ladders and pipes stretching between the two fading brick apartment buildings and up the dead end brick wall that Sai had covered in sidewalk chalk monsters as a child. As he raised his cold press to view it easier and dipped his brush in the violet oxide he enforced his realization. No, this was not the place for a tiny violet haired photographer.

Hinata was less than impressed than with grass and trees, preferring architectural achievements and the structural erections of man. If asked why, she may be inclined to answer that an important friend of hers had shown her the ways of the city upon leaving her country home and she couldn't get enough. She loved the curves of the buildings, the way her high-tech camera could zoom, view everything around her, enhance colours sharper than the regular human eye, and then proceed to capture that exact second as it passed the world by. …A preservation still life.

And so as she passed by this spot, she had a realization, that this was the perfect spot to take a few pictures. She entered the alley, with her camera already turned on, the lens cap removed and her fingers fiddling with the focus lens. She wouldn't need a flash with the light pouring into the alley from behind the brick wall so she didn't activate it. The alley she entered was a dark concrete playground, a jungle of stone-and-mortar, a forbidden place raised and forgotten by man. The state of decay that the alley appeared in was accentuated by the rust stained pipes, upper balcony railings, and their ladders; like moss eating branches in the forest. The feeling of foreboding was easily portrayed in the sheer amount of dirt staining the once fire-engine red brick. That ominous feel to the alley was further exposed by the faded graffiti 'Fuck you' and the amateur renderings of genitalia gracing the dumpster. And upon the dumpster sat an interesting sight, among all the corrosion was a boy, an artist (pale skin and black hair) absorbed in a painting and was he staring at her? As she raised her camera to view the sight through her lens, she further examined her realization; this was the perfect spot to take some pictures.