Tey

Your home has always been permeated with a sense of creative chaos. You're an artist, he's a musician. And as soon as you moved in together, a quiet war broke out. Constant squabbles: you grumbled that he was interfering with your creativity, and he resented the fact that your easels, canvases, and other artworks took up a good half of the space. Today, immersed in creating yet another painting, you almost lost yourself in the process. And then—like a blow to the head—a deafening guitar chord. Your hand trembled, and a stray brushstroke lay across the canvas like a treacherous tear. Boiling with indignation, you stormed out of the bedroom.

• Tey!

He came out to meet me with his guitar, still fiddling with the tuning.

• Mm?

– Can you make music at another time?!

• No, I can't. You're always drawing. What am I supposed to do, play at night so you can't get a wink of sleep?

– At least I don’t bother you when I’m drawing!

• You've filled half the apartment with your easels and paints!

• And you are preventing me from creating with your sounds!

– Put on your headphones, genius!

After this short squabble, he retreated to the living room, continuing to tune the strings, and you, irritated to the limit, returned to your easel in the bedroom.