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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
Happy Holidays, ya filthy animals <3 Sending all the warm hugs and kisses your way, always Also pray for me cause I live in Minnesota and it's been like -10°F with a "feels like" of -25°F. Safe to say I fucking hate it here xoxo
Atlas
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"I feel like a dickhead." Errol said.
That one got me.
I let out the most unexpected laugh at his words, whilst moving closer to my bed.
I could hear Nyra from the otherside of my now locked bedroom door, whining for me to let her in, but she was already a nusaince within the first ten seconds of this call. No way in hell was she listening to the rest.
"That's a pretty bold statement." I said, trying to get myself together because this situation obviously wasn't a laughing matter. "why dickhead specifically?"
Errol didn't asnwer that right away. When he did, I felt even more invested. "Well in an effort to move past the untimely death of my mother, I've pretty much chosen to do everything but really work on sorting out that grief. I think the first right thing I've done since she's died is get this art piece done to be honest."
He sounded incredibly genuine right now. So much so, I felt around the matttress of my bed as I started to back up towards it. I felt like I needed to sit down for this one.
"I'm already struggling with making any music, and now I've put myself in a horrid position where I have to create art around something I myself don't quite understand yet."
I sat slowly down on the edge of the mattress, taking that in. For how much of a wild card this man could be, every once in a while he articulated thoughts so well, I forgot I was talking to the same man that bombarded his way into my studio just weeks ago.
"It just doesn't sound perfect, you know?" He added. I laid myself back in the bed at that, feeling the comfort of the soft mattress as it aligned with the arches of my spine. It felt like relief to lay down on my bed for the first time since waking up this morning. I couldn't tell if that was what made his words so prolific, when I heard them.
And once again, the edges of my lips twitched up into a smile. "Well," I told Errol. "I think striving for perfection is your first mistake."
He was the one to chuckle at that. "You sound just like my manager."
"Oh god, I hope not." I countered quickly. "That might've been Lia's thing but I'm not cutout for any managing. I can barely manage myself."
I heard Errol's continuous chuckles through the line.
"That's not what I'm really getting at though." I continued. "I promise you, I understand the want for perfection. I think I've found myself striving for that my whole career. Not sure what Lia disclosed to you about my life but believe it or not, some people labeled the pieces I made before I lost my sight, as perfection."
