Bunbun dropped from the family deck to the friend deck elegantly enough following his mother’s daughter, but there was no doubt she possessed the greater grace. Initially he’d planned to follow along to hear the [king] on the High Half Tread. Now the plunging spears of light through the canopy conquered his eye. Shafts of this caliber occaisionally followed a wind storm like the one last night. These beams needed to be drawn.
He unslung his possibles bag and laid it flat on the deck. First he arranged the chalks perpendicularly to the ledge so they wouldn’t roll off. Next he slid his pad from it’s leather sheath. Finally he drug a lounge over to the edge of the deck and sat on the end near his tools. Bunbun began his sketch, not with the light, but with the contrasting dark.
Undoubtedly I write better in the morning. I must learn how to make the most of that time.
Word count: 160