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Summary
“Then who are you to decide when people possess the most beauty? If you’re going by your own little artist’s creed, it would only be natural for someone to disagree with you. In which case, your whole theory about death and beauty is royally fucked. What if someone was like ‘let’s photograph newborn babies because that’s when humans are the purest!’ What then?” Sebastian tilted his head back, banging it against the headboard of the bed. The not-so-soft thump echoed a bit, but he didn’t seem to care. He raised his eyebrows as he took a drink from a beer can--nothing expensive, of course. Still, it seemed that most of their acquired funds went to alcohol, which was scathing, because an artist needed supplies. Stefano put that to the back of his mind, for now.
Artistic disagreement? Varied interpretations of art? Drunk Sebastian was always a surprise.
Series
- Part 2 of Out of the Fire, Into the Cold