We Are The District

10/06/2009

A still life.

Oliver Wingate

The great unwritten lies within, locked away in the incense cedar, haunting the graphite darkness. Fabulous oeuvres wait to emerge: stories to melt the stone cold hearts of planets, prose to win over a human race, poems to lavish on a bronze princess, tales so tall, they scrape the sky; and all it will take is a few simple strokes of Hard Black abandon and a life that's anything but still.

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