His calloused hands move in such a practiced manner, they glide across the canvas with such skill and grace.

“Kaveh?” You ask, trying not to leave the position you’re currently posed in. “Are we done yet? It’s been 3 hours.“

“Hush.” Kaveh says. His concentration is unmatched, his eyes trained like a hawk.

He’s always been quite critical of his own work. A perfectionist almost to an obsessive point. Like clay, he’s able to transform the canvas into something magnificent with ease.