"Yes." Tom's words are a hiss, and he's leaning alarmingly close to Hickey now, reaching out to touch at the other's arm as he talks.
"You have to ride the waves of whatever! How else are you going to survive, to look for inspiration, to really, truly grasp at what everything really, truly is!"
He's not an artist. That's fine. Hickey's still fun.
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"You have to ride the waves of whatever! How else are you going to survive, to look for inspiration, to really, truly grasp at what everything really, truly is!"
He's not an artist. That's fine. Hickey's still fun.