"A brief survey, I guess. I wouldn't think of it as a study."
It seemed to Nawin that the two of them were merely crows cawing at the night to give texture to the air and all vacuous substance in order to make themselves and their world seem real. It seemed to him that small talk and bantering were, as the Laotian said, titillations to make something personal in the void of time and space. "How do you know that I'm a loafer?" asked Nawin with a laugh.
"Did I say that you were?"
"I don' remember. Maybe not exactly like that but you implied it anyhow. How do you know that I am a loafer?"
"I don't. I just guess that you are."
"I am, you know."
"Are what?"
"A loafer. Not much of an artist now. Retired."
"Retired?"
"Uninspired. They are synonymous words."