It wasn’t glamorous, returning to the city he’d known so well when he was trying to live like everybody else; before his own path had been forged and he’d ventured over the horizon.
But now things were different. Strung-out on his hopes and dreams, the couch made a comfortable enough bed. It was a sacrifice, but there were always sacrifices. If you weren’t willing to spill a little blood or break a few eggs, you’d never get anywhere, he thought. He saved up as much as he could and looked for a place to immortalize his compositions.