Blog A Hunger for Melancholy I was the kid in art class who, when he couldn’t draw anything that looked like what he was trying to draw, scribbled over it with a frenzied gusto and declared it art.
Art They **** Babies, Don't They? Relativity is the story of God, but there are infinite stories already written and more are being borne every time your heart beats. That’s a violent machine, the heart, ainit?
