“He wishes he were a skilled poet, it would fit his chosen image perfectly; the poor, tragic, tortured artiste. But he has no talent for words, neither for paints nor music; his uselessness is tremendously total.” — Curtis Ackie Copy Share Image
“He wishes he were a skilled poet, it would fit his chosen image perfectly; the poor, tragic, tortured artiste. But he has no talent… — Curtis Ackie Copy Share Image
“As though eavesdropping, the whistling wind refuses to speak above a whisper. The winding road is cut into the side of the mountain in… — Curtis Ackie Copy Share Image
“Unaware that he is only interested in the presumed parched pucker in her pants, she is more than happy to give him her phone… — Curtis Ackie Copy Share Image
