spring greens: akkerman hofkwartier groen fountain pen ink

A motorcycle approaches from the distance, sound getting louder as it comes closer. The engine stops, a few houses down the road. You hear people chatter, exchanging pleasantries and then closing the door. They must’ve ordered some food. It’s a quiet evening, noise of the motorcycle diminishing as the delivery guy rides away. A bird chirps. The house is warm, and the only light comes from a small lamp on the side table, illuminating a corner.