Reverberations through empty hallways of olden artistry were footsteps of a certain man with a camera wrapped around his neck; Each thump followed a click and a hum of interest.

All the while, you sat on a long ottoman chair smack in the middle of the room with your sketchbook and mini paint set atop, attempting to recreate one of the paintings hung across.

Time was lost and so was your awareness, as the man now stood behind and watched you worked.