Takashi Motosuwa walked the long, cobblestone path to his office in the business distict. He signed in at the front office with reluctant stokes of a ball point pen, allowing the tiny ink-crusted sphere to struggle against his force before it finally gave and bled out across the coarse, white copier paper. The 32 year old detective scrawling the loops and crosses of his name sighed as he finished the check-in. "It's going to be a long night," he said to an empty stare from the clerk. Takashi couldn't help but laugh to himself, it seemed that he was the only person who fully appreciated having a sense of humor. Nobody else liked to laugh at the unflinching irony of life, or worse didn't notice and became part of the joke. He walked as if on stilts, slowly and careful to maintain balance as he navigated the slanting, uneven staircase that led to his 3rd floor office. His key stumbled before sliding with a sigh into the grooves and pins of the lock, each mechanism conforming to its predesigned shape and notch. Takashi laughed again. He flipped the melancholy switch on the wall and marveled as the Japanese-style 11-inch Shika Square Rattan Lanterns in the room flickered on. The light was bright, but also warm. The fibers of each shade glowed with second hand illumination, flaunting the light it stole from the electric bulb that lived inside the lamp. The bulb was too good at its job, and the designers had deemed that limiting its ability was the best course of action, rather than force anyone to embrace and adjust to the power they were witnessing. Takashi wondered if convenience was the real mother of invention. Maybe that was the only need that mattered. Tonight's inconvenience would be the last, he thought as he removed the lampshades, letting the light stretch photonic.
- Did the color match the color displayed onsite? Yes
- Please tell us about the quality of the product. Great Quality
- How accurate was the sizing? 100% accurate