It is work to ride head up and holy here. It is painters with slack in their brush, painters all jacked up on stampede dust just tryin' to get it right. I've been trying to get it right. I've been learning here how to grow larger […]
Is Bill thirty years old now? I thought he was one age with our Sarah.
Am I such a callous blodger, then? You can't imagine that I might feel bad about the way we've invaded your life?
Folk art is often produced by anonymous and formally untrained consumers for their own or barter use. It might later, like brothel-born jazz, be accorded the status of a fine art by subsequent audiences who assign greater complexities to its structure.
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