Creation

It is in 17th century Germany on a nameless street, just another day begins as the rising sun paints the entire street like a sepia photograph. Inside one of the houses with identical facades, a man in his late 20's performs his craft. Holed up in his workshop upstairs labouring away at his creation, the golden sun rays shine through the windows of his workshop; there is little sign on the man's face to indicate that he had been up all night at his work. On his immaculate countenance an elegant smile is etched, a mirror of the enjoyment, fulfillment and pride he takes in his work. Perhaps he does not call it work at all.

The dollmaker pours over his intricate equipment, and yet he seems perfectly poised and at home with his surroundings, his nimble fingers efficient and never hesitating. It is hard not to be inspired by wonder watching a craftsman at work, even more so for the nameless dollmaker; it is clear that money is not his motive. What makes him tinker over all that material and turn scraps into something beautiful?

Perhaps there is a love of his who inspires him, perhaps a child; perhaps something lost to him, perhaps a longing? There he stays in his little bubble of timelessness immersed in the passion for his work. So noble and passionate his work that time itself could not bear to take him away in her tide. And all that is of him is stowed away in a tiny fragment of reality, floating around in the space of existence. Forever immortalized.

The dolls born of his hands that lay scattered around his workshop seem almost lifelike. With eyes glowing with emotion and faces lit with compassion that it takes conscious thought to remind oneself that they are just dolls; and yet it just seems that they would just suddenly get up and smile at you. Such love put into his handicraft, like a great desire for a child he never could have.

And as the creator walks past a doll of a girl child, it reaches out to him haphazardly, and whispers:

'Fa...ther...'

The scene fades and diminishes into the fog of thought, as if just a dream.

Inspired by Mitsumune Shinkichi's "Creation", Rozen Maiden: Träumend.