There was a bottle of ink left in one of the drawers. I wondered if I can use some of my grandfather's dip pens that were stored in a brown matchbox under the documents. "a, b, c, d, e" rushed the quill and dropped a line back at the first stroke. The line looked like a leg in the middle of a jump which amused my tired mind and pushed me to add the second one. And then the whole man. And then another one. They were jumping down to the scene, ready to dance and enjoy the paper fields. Here they go, faceless celebrators, admired by their existence and by their festive company. Here they go, running across the table down to the floor. Here they god up my fingers to my forearms. Here they go, here they go