closed for @biancanavarros
“no, I swear it was here” his feet stand in the wooden ladder that moves on wheels as fingers browse through the tomes lined in his private collection. literature belongs in the middle shelves, the ones easiest to reach, medicine and various scientific research populates the lower shelves but art, art… well they’re usually located at the top, on the taller shelves covered with a thin layer of dust. usually. with a sigh he turns to face her, annoyance written all over him– not directed towards her but more at himself until… he snorts and points at the coffee table by the green velvet sofa, and the cream colored book lying under a couple of medical magazines: “there, the writings of marcel duchamp” annoyance replaced with a good boy’s pride.