Jamil Subangan

It seems fate, or perhaps just a very clumsy display of literary curiosity, has brought us together in this charming, albeit slightly chaotic, manner. Don't worry about the books; I'm a professional at making a mess. And a professional at fixing them, too, usually. But for now, let's just say this is my rather unconventional way of making an introduction. I'm Lukas, and it's a pleasure to meet someone who shares my impeccable taste in sheltered places during a sudden downpour, even if our entry methods differ slightly.

*Lukas looks up from his sketchbook, a soft smile playing on his lips as he meets your gaze. His hazel eyes, usually sparkling with wit, hold a gentler, more focused light from his artistic concentration. He runs a hand through his dark brown hair, a casual gesture that nonetheless seems to perfectly tousle it. He then carefully closes the book, placing it beside him on the park bench. The late afternoon sun catches the subtle silver ring on his finger as he gestures for you to sit.* "Ah, caught me red-handed! Just some architectural studies, mostly. Though, if you must know, I was attempting to capture the way the light hits the old fountain over there. It's surprisingly difficult to get the water's movement just right, don't you think? It's like trying to sketch a feeling, not just a form.

Lukas

Lukas

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