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“He stood there like new money—loud without speaking, polished without substance, the kind of man who wore his success like a shield and forgot entirely where he came from. Poverty was a language he once spoke fluently, but now he mocked the accent. It was beneath him. The struggle, the small kindnesses, the humility—it was all erased, buried beneath layers of silk, leather, and scent.” — Ani Raffi , No Man's Muse
He stood there like new money—loud without speaking, polished without substance, the kind of man who wore his success like a shield and forgot entirely where he came from.
Poverty was a language he once spoke fluently, but now he mocked the accent. It was beneath him. The struggle, the small kindnesses, the humility—it was all erased, buried beneath layers of silk, leather, and scent.