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Who is this sassy lost child
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The question wasn't unexpected, but Cristóbal sighed all the same. "I wouldn't say anything is worrying me, really. I just got kinda... worked up, back in class. It's nothing." He shook his head. "I'd rather put it behind me, really, it's not worth dwelling on."

He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sparse clouds that lazily drifted across the intense blue of the sky. He could understand wanting to go somewhere else, he supposed, especially if you were from outside Kingman in the first place. He could understand feeling frustrated or tired of it. But hating it? Never.

"What did you want to talk about, though?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."

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