He’d caught a fatal glimpse of that level where everybody knew everybody else, where however political fortunes below might bloom and die, the same people, the Real Ones, remained year in and year out, keeping what was desirable flowing their way.
“I’m a sucker for the healing power you can mine in bleak hopelessness. There’s something that happens in the depressed arts where it can wash over you, resonating in harmony with your own sadness, and soothe it away for a while.”