I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 5.4 - Emma

The next morning, I rose along with the sun.

The moment the sunlight crawled into my room and brushed against my face, my eyelids naturally fluttered open, my body craving for more. I climbed out of bed to flick the curtains away from my window, and watched as the birds bobbled out in the bright green yard, ready for a new day.

Every sunrise seemed completely different, and so every time was beautiful in its own unique way. The plants were different shades of green, the birds sang different songs, the sunlight spread different directions, the clouds were different shapes, and I was different.

For me, watching the sunrise was like a refresher to start the day, much like taking a cool shower or letting mint facial wash soak in on your face. Sunrises wash away the past, and only remind you of the coming new day, a new horizon to explore.

I've seen many sunrises before, in so many other places, but none were like the sunrises I've seen in the city of Amsterdam. For amidst all its popularity among its residents and its tourists, it's like they've all disappeared during the sunrise, reticent as they slept within their little homes. There's only the sun and the nature, alone, but in each other's presence. No matter how chaotic humanity can be in any certain place, at any certain time, there will always be moments of peace, shared between the sun and its silent creations, such as now.

This is perfect.

Quickly, I grabbed my sketchbook and pencil, refusing to grant myself a single second to allow such a moment to disappear. I raced out into the yard and up the creaky wooden stairs to reach the small picnic table I sat on the day before.

Crossing my legs, I provided myself a comfortable platform for where I placed my sketchbook comfortably to begin. I wavered my pencil around the middle of a blank page, deciding where to start. My eyes dashed back and forth from my pencil to the sunrise as my mind imagined the sunrise positioned on the paper. Finally, my hand began outlining the sun, working fast so that my subject couldn't change position. My pencil followed the direction of its rays, darkening its shade as it grew outwards to the sides of the paper. I rubbed my finger along the pencil lines, blurring the edges to produce a smooth texture. I added in the rooftops, and some trees along the sides, silhouettes against the blinding sun. On the bottom, I scribbled in the date and place of the sketch.

I straightened my posture after 15 long minutes of slouching over my sketchbook, stretching my back as I compared my sketch to the sunrise in front of me.

It's a good first sketch of my time in the Netherlands.

I closed my sketchbook and laid it on the table, relaxing my eyes after such intense focus. I glanced around, my eyes sailing across my yard and back. Suddenly, a flash of movement caught my attention, and my head darted up curiously to the neighbor's house.

It was the boy again, gazing from his spot behind his window.

I shifted in my seat, but at the same time, he once again disappeared, his curtains swishing gently in his absence.

It was only a few moments later when I heard a door slide open, then close, succeeded by the sound of soft footsteps as they collided gently with the ground, making impressions in the moist dirt.

My eyes followed the sounds until they fell upon the boy, the boy once in the window but was now in the garden next to me.

Held delicately in his hand was my raven sketch.

And he walked toward me.

He made his way to the fence that separated his yard from mine, and crossed his arms over it, his fingers still gripping the raven sketch. He looked up at me to where I sat on the balcony, and I glared down at him, tense in my seat.