“I’m running away from home,” they declared.
“Well, people don’t just run away without reason. Otherwise, they’d walk,” I replied.
They puckered their lips in irritation. They drew their knees up. “It was boring there… and I didn’t quite like the people,” they said after a moment’s honest thought. “I suppose I only stumbled upon this place by accident and I sort of like it. It’s very empty in here–almost peaceful.”
“I like to call it The Canvas,” I said quietly after a moment of reflection. I took a good look around at the blank space that offered so much untapped potential. They were right. It was empty. But its emptiness was, in a way, its greatest deception. The inner clarity that a crystal sphere possessed was a similar lie. And the vacancy of an old man’s cloudy eyes, too, was fools’ bate.
I turned to my visitor then and met their eyes. “I could make something,” I said.
“Like what?” they wondered aloud with a critical look around.
“Like… I could tell you a story and paint something. Anything. Or take a picture–maybe even share a moving picture with you!”
“Here? But it’s peaceful here! Why ruin something already so perfect?”
I gave them a broad smile. “Just wait and see. You might prefer what I have to show you–what others have to offer you. This place… The Canvas... could become like a home to you–to others too. Like a nest for bored and restless souls.”
“A nest, huh?” They mulled the notion over for a good minute before shrugging. “Anything’s better than home right now… But if things get weird, I’m going back!” they said in firm finality.
I just smiled. “You’re always welcome to go home and come back any time… even if things get weird.”