His daughter, the artist, wrote a book in colored scribble. She was scribble-age. She sat on a stool and tried not to fall off. As a politician, he explained that negotiating was the same as re-negotiating.
He walked backwards in the nursing home. The staff nudged him. He had a new respect for handrails. One day he fell over. Tall people came. They walked at an angle.
Back in bed, he wondered about perspective. I can draw, he thought. With a swipe of an outline, he added the distortion of looking up at the figure.