Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2010

Damn it, why couldn't I be born an artist? Then I could look at beauty and feel an energy coming from within me with the purpose of creating more. The sublime would brutally destroy my world, the genius would turn the universe inside out and the hearted-less would devastate all the carbon atoms in my composition.

But instead I can only see it and bite my lips, let out an eager chuckle and wait for the second I get to talk about it in my blog.

That's modern times.

This day the cause of this was a project of great magnificence.

In the not so strange case you're too lazy too open the link I'll tell you a few about this project. There was a book. An artist send it to another one he knew, said artist sent it back. This happened several times. In the mean time, they filled the pages with mind-blowing ink made of awesome.

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