Views.

64. A windowsill on Chaussée de Wavre.

Welcome. We've been expecting you.

65. View from a window. 

66. Rainbow's office. We have just finished lunch. I am lying on the couch, cuddling Fred, the fish. (Unlike all other instances in this blog, Fred is actually his real name.) They are discussing hotel options for their upcoming NY trip. I am slightly tuning out, partly because it's hard to concentrate on anything when you are lying on a couch, partly because something on the floor-to-ceiling blackboard is catching my attention. I am squinting to get a better examination of a simplistic drawing, repeated at a few different places, seemingly out of place on a blackboard full of conference details and work-related scribbles. I think the drawings are what I think they are, but you can never be sure. 
"Rainbow, are those... boobs?"
"Yes, they are. Each pair is for an accepted paper, for the conference listed on the same line." 
"So, boobs are equated to... happiness?"
"Yes, and the last drawing next to those three pairs of boobs? It's for a rejected paper."
"I can't actually make out what it is."
"That's a limp penis."