I stabbed at wet broccoli. Ambition was a shiny layered geode of a word. Cut it through and you would see its variegation. To want to be a CEO, to want to be safe, to want to make your mark on the dance world, to want to buy a nice flat someday, to want to be on CNN, to want to sell enough books about philosophy that you might live in the Pink House in some hazy future—those all fell within the company division of ambition, but I knew that this stupid boy was not actually trying to get philosophical. Listen, I said, I want to make enough money to take care of myself and my parents. I want to
...more
