Right. Its that time again. Where we both sit here and do our best to come up with the appropriate words to both describe and give a somewhat reasonable explanation for the existence of the craftsm...view moreRight. Its that time again. Where we both sit here and do our best to come up with the appropriate words to both describe and give a somewhat reasonable explanation for the existence of the craftsman behind this piece. In the end it hardly seems worth it. I mean, the man does all but absolutely defy description. But if I were ever forced to make an attempt at defying him in name my best foot forward would start out with something along the lines of a veritable silent shadow nestled amidst the thunderously bleak, sociopathic air surrounding him. If the world were a canvas his color would be the ignored mix on the palette mocking the work of the artist. The sort of mentality that could spend a lifetime laboring to construct a wall with a single window space cut into it only to use the next fifteen minutes after the last brick was laid to black out the glass with a brush coated in tar.
Hes a menace for the simple fact that he could never think of a good enough excuse to be one. His freedoms based on movement, but the only time he can dream is when hes standing still.
Graves.
A poor mans false hope.
Enthusiastic in his apathy and content with his sullenness.
And hes writing.
Thank you.
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