two weeks - ivan

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pixel by tricky

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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

— Бра́тья Карама́зовы

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His short duration on this radioactive town left Ivan without many life experiences. The dullness of the town, the peace, was almost frightening because Ivan sometimes worried that he didn’t have character. It was a terrible thing, to think you were as stiff as a board. The reason for this was that he couldn’t quite find something he loved. Apart from the stars and sky, of course, but he remembered how he trembled when Beck told him to collect something. There was this feeling of not fitting in, and he felt it the most when he was around his father. Maybe he was just afraid of what he was. Maybe that’s why he admired his father so much.

”Oh,” Surprise leapt to Ivan’s face. ”Well, things that are fantastical. Not fantasy like knights and dragons, that’s eh, what do you call it, sort of like a clique, no a cliche. I-I can’t put my paw on it. I don’t suppose anyone’s written stories about space.” He faltered, feeling that he hadn’t given much to work with. Sometimes he was just so picky that nothing could catch his attention. ”Maybe about someone who’s brave.”