Kanji's room is almost startling at first. I half expected it to be covered in crooked posters from hard rock bands and vague unintelligible English phrases.
After the initial startle though it makes me smile. It's actually perfect. It reminds me a little of my own room. Not that I sew, or knit, of craft. But my room is a testament to my work, to my own craft. Covered in cork boards with case studies and witness reports and crime scene photos pinned to them. Shelves for manuals, a locked file cabinet for the more sensitive materials and notes, a entire wall dedicated to detective novels...
I glance around, then turn to smile at Kanji, warm and open, as warm and open as I can be anyway. "I like your room."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-11-29 12:39 am (UTC)After the initial startle though it makes me smile. It's actually perfect. It reminds me a little of my own room. Not that I sew, or knit, of craft. But my room is a testament to my work, to my own craft. Covered in cork boards with case studies and witness reports and crime scene photos pinned to them. Shelves for manuals, a locked file cabinet for the more sensitive materials and notes, a entire wall dedicated to detective novels...
I glance around, then turn to smile at Kanji, warm and open, as warm and open as I can be anyway. "I like your room."