Artists

-I have learned to be an Artist, he said. I have learned to be unique.
-You've done the bigger part, now you only have to learn how to be just like everybody else, to really be one.

The conversation did not go smoothly. She was looking at him, wondering, how much will he shrink throughout the years. And he couldn't help to count those few years she will manage to maintain her youth.
They both wanted to prove something. Something that would leave one big, fat period... no exlamation sign in the life of the other.

What do you live for? - He implied that her life was empty and her lack of ambission was pityful.


He will probably not understand until the death-bed that pityful, was his pretend for greatness, and a life he deprived of meaning.
She've read somewhere that the key to a great life was simple. It was a life-long friend, love, and meaningful work.

She siped her wine and faked a defeated smile.