[ the angular lines of the man's shoulders, the short cut of the jacket with just enough dynamic flare to suggest a lean, like a knife poised to cut. this ought to be, kaveh thinks, imagery with something like an explosion imploding in the background. the endless wasteland of this soulless city stretches on beyond the silhouette of the man's pose, but kaveh can fill in the blanks with his imagination alone - flame, smoke, the light consequences of a minor chemical experiment gone wrong.

here - kaveh smiles. ]

Isn't that the thing, with the young ones? They come with that spark of creativity. I find that we lose a lot of it while we grow older - it seems to be just a consequence of age, but I think that's why people need each other, young and old and otherwise.

[ march - that's a name that invokes spring. kaveh lifts his pencil from his sketchpad in turn. ] Ah, I've captured the essentials. You can let go of the pose, now.