The library had enough space to accommodate others; everyone nestled in their comfortable spots, flipping through the draft of Ewen's new book. Beyond the gentle breathing, there was only the rustling of pages, a rare tranquility soothing the soul, even the impact of the madly twisting grotesque show gradually fading away.
While the others read Ewen's draft, Ewen brought over a chair, leisurely looking out at the sea of flowers outside the window in this peculiar space; time seemed suspended. It should have been several hours since entering the library, yet the outside sky showed no change.
Ewen began to wonder how this was achieved, imagining perhaps a stage-like curtain had covered everything beyond imagination.
The orange-red light illuminated everything it touched, and Ewen was particularly fond of this brilliant fiery red scene. For this reason, he picked up a pen to describe it in his notes.
