Linus believed the world was better off with the paintings staying in this room, but he kept the thought to himself.
The master had showed them off proudly, telling Linus painting was her passion, and that if she hadn’t become the master of this specific orphanage, she’d be traveling with a circus as a lemur trainer or even have opened up a gallery to share her artwork with the world.
The walls were lined with terrible paintings of lemurs in various poses. They were in the master’s office, a tidy room with government-issued brown carpet and old furniture. “I see,” Linus said, furiously scribbling on his pad of paper. It went on for a good minute before the blocks slowly lowered to the floor. Daisy frowned in concentration, the tip of her tongue stuck out between her teeth. The blocks spun in slow, concentric circles. He watched in rapt wonder as an eleven-year-old girl named Daisy levitated blocks of wood high above her head. “Oh dear,” Linus Baker said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
0 kommentar(er)
