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| "He
sits in the clubs and taverns in cities and hamlets the
world over. |
| He has no intent
or
inspirations. |
| They simply,
powerfully come to him. |
| He consumes the alcohol
and it consumes the mundane. |
| Before becoming
conscious of the act, his hand feverishly delivers the
images he couldn't produce if his very life depended on
it. |
| Yet here they
come. One by one, dozen by dozen, until bar
napkins populate his environment in displays of his art. |
| The products of these
encounters have been variously purchased by the subjects
they depict, traded for spirits, or been the conduits to
long friendships, the way his body performed the feat
somewhere between his subconscious state and the tip of
the nearest pen or pencil. |
| A mystery, even to
him, he need not install devices to keep
secrets. They are delivered." |
|
to be continued . .
. . |
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