The same day a couple hours later Ashton walked into the room that once his favorite place in the world. The only place where in his solitary being, he could feel the least alone. Ironically, this place was left to him by his father, the person who had caused the greatest loss and misery in his life, the one who was responsible for making him literally alone in this world, on his own, belonged to no one. Dusty and silent, this studio held lots of memories of his childhood. It was the place where he found solace, doing what he loved the most alone. Surrounded by silence, with pencil in his hand slid on the paper, or paintbrush between his fingers swept over the canvas. Entirely alone, absorbed in doings of his own choice. It was the time when he sank into the depth of peace beyond all the riotous thoughts. Nobody knew he still came to this place. He still painted, though his uncle had once told him th
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