I am not dead, not alive, somewhere in the middle. Not a ghost, not a ghoul. Not able to play the fiddle. I can not go on planes. My favorite food is brains. Bad luck, dumbstruck, I am one of those lames. Please send your brains in a package, Because of my very poor lackage.
Inside my heart there are pictures of monsters waiting to be drawn and put on canvases. Inside my heart there are violin pieces by Bach waiting to be played in concert halls all over the world. Inside my heart there is a Telemann Gavotte piece waiting to be played in a piano competition […]