RX breathed a sigh of content as he watched the scenery outside the bus’s windows rush past him. The lush greenery of the trees and earthy brown of the mountains, coupled with the soft whiteness of the clouds and the crystal blue oceans was indeed a beautiful sight to behold. But for the little otter, it was more than that; it was a comforting reminder of the home he had left long ago.
Although Charming was not, in fact, the same town RX grew up in, it was certainly a place that reminded him of his youthful days. Some might consider being lost in nostalgia a tad unhealthy, but the Oshawott instead thrived on it. Having left his hometown, he went and pursued his dream of being a world-famous artist. His unique pieces, fusing the warm ambience of a simple town and the hot, vibrant lights of the urban jungle produced masterpieces of both contrast and balance. Well, that was what one critic said, anyway. And it was that one comment that propelled RX’s inspiration to create countless pieces showcasing the facades of harmony and opposing forces.
RX quietly thought of his last exhibit. A stunning culmination of the past and present; Taking dinosaur skeletons and then putting them in a modern setting, which at the same time provided a message of what the future might bring. The sheer applause and number of guests that came to the schindig was certainly evidence that his latest pieces were an overall success. And yet, in his heart, RX felt something awry. There was something missing; something important. It was something he wanted to grasp ever since he had left home. An indescribable feeling that he wanted to place into his pieces: The true message he wished to convey through his art.
Flashing forward to two years later, RX found himself seated comfortably in a bus, waiting to reach his destination. He had barely done any pieces since that last exhibit, and the more he conceptualized, the farther he was from attaining his goal, or so he felt. It was because of this that he decided that perhaps a recession was in order. It had been forever since he simply dropped everything and took a break from his work. Relaxing for an artist was somewhat difficult, he thought. After all, there is inspiration everywhere, and most of the time it occurs in a fleeting moment. The Oshawott had trained himself to take notice of these things, and as a result was always on edge, looking for the once bit of inspiration that might finally help him discover the message he had long sought after.
No, this time there would be none of that. RX even left all of his art materials back in his apartment. From henceforth today, he was going to be on a true hiatus. Absolutely no creating, conceptualizing or conveying; He was going to relax, return to a simple life, and perhaps once his mind was rested and filled with new experiences and memories, he might return and find the answer he so terribly desired.
Thanking the bus driver, RX waved him farewell as the doors to the bus creaked closed. The Oshawott then turned over to the new path that lay before him. He looked up at the old wooden arch that marked the entrance to the town. On it was a faded message that had been painted there long, long ago.
Charming Town.
RX considered how he had ended up in this place. It was a busy evening, the very evening of his last exhibit, in fact. All the socialites had come out from their busy schedules and exuberant lifestyles to come see his artwork; and more importantly, to display their own pieces exhibiting the wealthy and eloquent lifestyles they lived. RX didn’t like them. He knew they only came for the company he had. He even came across a couple who looked at his piece with a face that might’ve said ‘I don’t get it; just what is all this hullabaloo about?’ He was about to make note to place his next exhibit in a more public place, like say behind a restaurant dumpster, when he chanced upon a young lady.
RX had no idea who she was. Well, it’s not like he ever paid any heed to his guest list. She moved about the exhibit, looking at his pieces thoughtfully and smiling. RX always caught a glimpse of her from the side. However, the profile of her face, and the way she smiled, it was a very charming smile indeed. Genuinely curious as to who this charming lady might be, the Oshawott walked over and struck her for a casual conversation.
She had a remarkable insight of her pieces. RX wondered who she was, but she didn’t seem to be a noted art critic nor an infamous socialite. He was beginning to consider she had snuck into his exhibit from somewhere else, to which she confessed that she did. The Oshawott found this amusing, and the two exchanged chuckles. They continued talking for the rest of the night, and despite the sheer number of things they learned about each other, RX never truly knew who this Naomi was.
It wasn’t until the day after that he seriously set out to discover who this mysterious damsel was. And from his extensive research he had discovered that Naomi was much like him. She, too, was a famous artist in her own right. She was a world-renowned cellist, in fact. She, too, had started out in a small, simple town. This town to be precise. Having become a fan of her work, RX decided to take his recession here in Charming. It was a town not unlike the one he had grown up in. But also, it was Naomi’s hometown.
“I’m here, Naomi,” RX whispered to himself. “I will be sure to find it, I promise.” Convictions made, the Oshawott shuffled quietly into town, eager to add new memories to his repertoire.
Although Charming was not, in fact, the same town RX grew up in, it was certainly a place that reminded him of his youthful days. Some might consider being lost in nostalgia a tad unhealthy, but the Oshawott instead thrived on it. Having left his hometown, he went and pursued his dream of being a world-famous artist. His unique pieces, fusing the warm ambience of a simple town and the hot, vibrant lights of the urban jungle produced masterpieces of both contrast and balance. Well, that was what one critic said, anyway. And it was that one comment that propelled RX’s inspiration to create countless pieces showcasing the facades of harmony and opposing forces.
RX quietly thought of his last exhibit. A stunning culmination of the past and present; Taking dinosaur skeletons and then putting them in a modern setting, which at the same time provided a message of what the future might bring. The sheer applause and number of guests that came to the schindig was certainly evidence that his latest pieces were an overall success. And yet, in his heart, RX felt something awry. There was something missing; something important. It was something he wanted to grasp ever since he had left home. An indescribable feeling that he wanted to place into his pieces: The true message he wished to convey through his art.
Flashing forward to two years later, RX found himself seated comfortably in a bus, waiting to reach his destination. He had barely done any pieces since that last exhibit, and the more he conceptualized, the farther he was from attaining his goal, or so he felt. It was because of this that he decided that perhaps a recession was in order. It had been forever since he simply dropped everything and took a break from his work. Relaxing for an artist was somewhat difficult, he thought. After all, there is inspiration everywhere, and most of the time it occurs in a fleeting moment. The Oshawott had trained himself to take notice of these things, and as a result was always on edge, looking for the once bit of inspiration that might finally help him discover the message he had long sought after.
No, this time there would be none of that. RX even left all of his art materials back in his apartment. From henceforth today, he was going to be on a true hiatus. Absolutely no creating, conceptualizing or conveying; He was going to relax, return to a simple life, and perhaps once his mind was rested and filled with new experiences and memories, he might return and find the answer he so terribly desired.
Thanking the bus driver, RX waved him farewell as the doors to the bus creaked closed. The Oshawott then turned over to the new path that lay before him. He looked up at the old wooden arch that marked the entrance to the town. On it was a faded message that had been painted there long, long ago.
Charming Town.
RX considered how he had ended up in this place. It was a busy evening, the very evening of his last exhibit, in fact. All the socialites had come out from their busy schedules and exuberant lifestyles to come see his artwork; and more importantly, to display their own pieces exhibiting the wealthy and eloquent lifestyles they lived. RX didn’t like them. He knew they only came for the company he had. He even came across a couple who looked at his piece with a face that might’ve said ‘I don’t get it; just what is all this hullabaloo about?’ He was about to make note to place his next exhibit in a more public place, like say behind a restaurant dumpster, when he chanced upon a young lady.
RX had no idea who she was. Well, it’s not like he ever paid any heed to his guest list. She moved about the exhibit, looking at his pieces thoughtfully and smiling. RX always caught a glimpse of her from the side. However, the profile of her face, and the way she smiled, it was a very charming smile indeed. Genuinely curious as to who this charming lady might be, the Oshawott walked over and struck her for a casual conversation.
She had a remarkable insight of her pieces. RX wondered who she was, but she didn’t seem to be a noted art critic nor an infamous socialite. He was beginning to consider she had snuck into his exhibit from somewhere else, to which she confessed that she did. The Oshawott found this amusing, and the two exchanged chuckles. They continued talking for the rest of the night, and despite the sheer number of things they learned about each other, RX never truly knew who this Naomi was.
It wasn’t until the day after that he seriously set out to discover who this mysterious damsel was. And from his extensive research he had discovered that Naomi was much like him. She, too, was a famous artist in her own right. She was a world-renowned cellist, in fact. She, too, had started out in a small, simple town. This town to be precise. Having become a fan of her work, RX decided to take his recession here in Charming. It was a town not unlike the one he had grown up in. But also, it was Naomi’s hometown.
“I’m here, Naomi,” RX whispered to himself. “I will be sure to find it, I promise.” Convictions made, the Oshawott shuffled quietly into town, eager to add new memories to his repertoire.
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