I tried to sound like I had some problems with it. I only wanted to make him think about it more positively. I worried that he would do the same thing as everybody whom I was talking with about my dream. They loved pointing out the fact of that it takes too much time or accusing me from being only a talker instead of a worker. Unfortunately, they weren't very far from the truth.
“What do you use?” the bartender shot another question.
“Acrylic colors.”
“I will bring you some,” he coldly said.
“Really?”
The bartender put the newspaper down. It was quite late, because he was staring at me the whole time, and then he gave me that kind of vibes as if he wanted to say something deep. I hoped for anything but that. A man who spent many hours among people, who were complaining about their liv
