Touched by the purple

I really didn’t expect this, and when I saw it, I didn’t expect it to be good.

It’s actually better than that. Rarity muses on the death of an artist, and this is the part that sells it:

He was never old because he never allowed himself to be old. When one of his selves seemed to be showing the faintest touches of fading, he simply discarded that version and took a new one. Always a musician — with everything else a variable. I admired that so much, the ability to cast one self aside and choose the next. It was what I wanted, and he … magic without workings, fields, or tricks. Magic I could learn. Magic I … still can’t quite figure out. But he could do it. Forever fresh, forever new, forever young —

— forever gone.

Read it. I think you’ll appreciate it.

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