Her eyes were distant as she gazed blankly

Her eyes were distant as she gazed blankly at the city skyline from her position on the large oak branch.

A light fog appeared above the river between her and the city, where buildings seemed to be missing, like teeth in the mouth of an old relative. Her

legs suddenly gave way and she fell down the embankment into the swamp below. Drenched and miserable, she started the crawl back up to dry land. Fear ripped through her body when

she heard a kind of slobbering wail from behind her. Turning around she saw a massive dark shape slowly emerging from the swamp. Every step making an eery sucking sound. Was

to go feel the bern, you idiot. He subsequently lumbered of into the most forgotten parts of history. The next monster approached. Who would it be? Oh look, it's H

elane Fromme Perfecta Publicus, Minister At Large and most definitely without portfolio. Which did not mean you could treat it at less than if she did have portfolio. They must've

Realised some some art is too abstract to get carried around. It can be like black dust, which vanishes if touched or even whistled at. Try getting a job as an illustrator if your

only medium is black dust. Though I suppose you could photograph it before it blew away. However I do appreciate the temporary concept involved. But let's be practical. Pen and ink

have damned us more often than not. Let old has beens find the dustbin of history themselves. We have the genome to do art with! ONE OMNISTORY WRITING FOOL COMING UP with 3 arms.