Trevor doesn’t call himself a barber.
Instead, he calls himself a hair artist.
“If a chef can call himself a culinary artist, then I can call myself a hair artist.”
I tried to argue, but Trevor held up a razor.
“This is my chisel. You’re my medium.”
I didn’t argue. I just listened.
“My work lasts longer than a chef’s art. And it travels better. Unless it’s raining and you don’t have an umbrella. Or there’s high winds.”
When he was done, he took a picture.
In case someone bids and buys his art.
I hope I get a cut.