terminally vague

Samuel

There was something very comforting in returning to the routine of bookmaking after Samuel's several weeks away having a major crisisbeing busy. The rustle of paper and the stains of ink on his fingers, the slow but satisfying work of laying each page in, making sure it was neat, sewing it to the spine; he loved seeing each story come together. In his absence he had not realised how much he missed it.

Making an effort to get back into it and his work for the Loreseekers, he had to purposefully clear his mind of his troubles and worries. Focus his mind and eyes on only the work before him, the pen and the knife.

Perhaps he had made a huge mistake, and the work was admittedly much harder without three of his fingers, but at least there was the page to fall back on. Humming as he worked, Sam tried out his pen on a bit of scrap paper then began to draw out a large illustrated 'G', the first letter of a tome on local flora.

And it's hard to write about being happy
'Cause the older I get

I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject