Strange and wild, wonderfully ambidextrous people
The greatest painter that there never appeared to be – her mind has been rolling itself over in its preordained grave

Brave, brave people tend to do that to themselves time and decidedly again til tremendously tethered by treacherous and brutalised yet picture-perfect demos of demise and dastard downfall

Her heartstrings have been bleeding, whilst rambling fingers have been singing, endlessly whispering vividly within, if only for themselves

Portraying the ecstasy of passion and pain aside unbridled joy
By way of paid-dividends in creative and far-stretched chaotic misbehaving’s – this is the hidden joie-de-vivre which we all speak so fondly of