Noah

He was timorous, but in the most darling of ways. His feckless social skills made it almost impossible for him to grow, so he subsided to watching the world go by passively. He was infatuated by life, though. He ogled over the capricious ways of the world. From the never steady weather, to the arrays of color in the sunrise, to the trembling ocean current. His luring complexion and ghastly pale green eyes made him striking. I had always wondered if he was hedonistic, or if he had simply basked in the simple pleasures of life. He was not cloying, or fastidious. He just sat there, his face buried inside his sketchpad. Who knows though. Beneath his idly blank expression, he could have had the most complex and perpetual thoughts. Maybe he had dreams of being a glorified musician, or a pretentious politician. You could tell from his eyes that he was hiding behind a wall of sadness he built for himself. I think he's just wandering around this bland life he's been trapped in, filled with ennui dissatisfaction.