Arthur took a cup of tea and slowly sipped on it as he examined the others in the room. His artist eye was always looking for new things to paint. Unfortunately, no one in the sitting room attracted his eye in the slightest. Sighing, he wondered if he would ever find some place to inspire him to paint again. The last one to inspire him was his mother and now she was dead.<br/><br/>There I go again, he thought to himself. Thinking about death and the departed. No wonder you're too depressed to paint. Death is a part of life, you fool. Deal with it and move on.