Vincent sat with his prostitute friend Rachel at the night cafe.
"You're the only woman I can talk to. All the rest shut me out."
"Why is that?"
"Maybe they're afraid they'll find out I might need them."
A burly patron stopped to pester. "Hey, Vincent! See them farmers shooting up your painting? They sure do hate that shit!"
"That's OK. All hate is self hate."
Rachel intervened. "So just what is eating at you, Vincent?"
"It's that I have a dream. A dream that can't be told - only known."
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