[ this, kaveh recognizes as a different answer. alhaitham speaks, and what he hears is simply an answer without one. alhaitham is, after all, hardly all-knowing, for what reason is there to live once one obtains all the knowledge in the world? not even their archons, embodiments of wisdom, are. alhaitham speaks, and relents, and kaveh smiles for it. he may not feel the texture of calloused fingers that brush so lightly against his skin, but at least the shape he recognizes. kaveh clings to it, and finds it soothing. ]

It will be worse, [ he begins, then, smile still on his face. a kaveh of the past would've flaunted his confidence, for which man who has dedicated his life to drawing would do worse than another who has just recently picked a pencil?

that, here, is not the case, for kaveh continues: ] My body is tired and I won't be able to draw straight lines. It will be worse, and you will use that as ammunition to have me try again tomorrow. You never ask when I'm well-rested.

[ it's about the routine, he knows. the consistency and the ambition to keep on trying, and keep on living, for what else motivates someone if not a hope to cling onto and a dream to chase? kaveh is, and has long been, a withering flower. to be fed sunlight and watered consistently only delay the inevitable, but at the very least, it makes him feel alive. that, he finds, is enough. ]

You know the routine is comforting. That's how you keep me grounded. I've had enough change in my life, after all.