[ Imagine. His bespectacled face, covering the entirety of some wall in this city for everyone to see. What a thought. Certainly not one he's ever had in his life before this.

It's not as though he's particularly shy about his looks - you reach a certain age and appearance becomes the last thing you have the time to worry about - and it's not as though as though plenty of things created by his hand haven't had their image plastered on billboards and posters for all to see. And Kaveh does have a point: this city is terribly barren. ]

No, I don't think it's strange. It's very admirable of you to want to contribute to this place and make it a place worth living and walking through every day. A life without creativity of any sort - whether it be art, music, poetry, everything else - is hardly a life worth living.

[ It's just that, well…. ]

I just didn't expect all that to stem from something as simple as this.

[ He's not that special, not that unique. Second in a line of many, another traveler aboard a train, a supporting character always overshadowed by a more determined protagonist. Still, he smiles ruefully, shaking his head slightly. ]

But that's how inspiration often strikes, isn't it, from something small and sudden?