Ivan

1y

INTJ

Aries

5

6

Imagine the inner monologue of a detective from that age. "The room was like a box, but still had an air of warm comfort. A lot of small picture frames on the walls, interestigly none filled with images of people. Only flowers. A few drops of water were still boiling in a teapot set on a small stove next to a wall of books. Too many books. I had no inclination to read books, not now, not ever. I had a life. Not like the resident of this abode, a sad little dryman now being removed from the cobblestones in front of the house entrance five storeys beneath us. No wonder he jumped, obviously through the bigger of the two extremely clean windows, through which I could now again smell the fresh baguettes in the bakery down the street. It was breakfast time. I needed something in my tea, and it was not milk."