Hahahaha I’ve met people like Edard – you just weep at the loss of potential. Great story
You know how it happens, there are two of you sitting drinking and then, suddenly and before you know it, there are three. So we sat in companionable conversation with our new friend Edard and swapped experiences. It struck me at one point that we were three men, no longer as young as we had been. Somehow we’d survived but not in a way our mothers might have mapped out for us.
Edard too was an artist, a poet of sorts and a passable painter. But whilst we had made great efforts to stay true to our art, Edard had almost taunted his muse, trifled with her and forced her to follow after him in her shift, barefoot and weeping.
It wasn’t that he was work-shy and shiftless, far from it. He sat there in the working dress of a day labourer, coarse trews and a grey shirt with no…
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