It doesn't seem that way to me. I may have stolen your laugh from you, but
I left you the rest. You have something I've always wanted - a place in a
world of artists.
Maybe the less savory details are just one of those awful side-effects of maturity;
you trade the wildness for respectability, the guitar for a checkbook, the long hair for
a suit and the musician for a broker.
It's not that different with me.
Do you envy me Paris?