“Give it time,” Baraka says with a nod as he takes another drink of sake before passing it to Kagiso.
“I’ve never been able to commit to anything,” Kagiso chimes in before chugging down a mouthful of sake, “and my parents back home told me that it was either become a martial artist or leave. How did you figure out what your passion was?”
“Heartbreak,” Baraka replies. He takes the blunt from Raiko, inhales deeply, and exhales as he explains, “I was working at an artists’ union in the School of Poetry and barely making ends meet. I would submit short stories and poetry that got sent back all the time. I faced rejection after rejection, and, for my time, I made just enough money through small pieces that I managed to get accepted and published by the skin of my teeth. At one point, I though
