RCS – Business Default

At half past ten in the evening, the artist got up from

 bed, he was tired of waiting for his friend who

 should bring him money from the last drawings,

 bought from him. The friend has been light all day

 intoxicated, drinks alcohol, and even smokes something, if anyone does

 invite.

 The artist currently has no canvas and base

 colors to be able to paint, so he decided to

 writing. This is his fourth book. The third

 he sent the book to the publisher and is waiting to see if they will send it to him

 announced that at least he was earning something. The other books

 they are not finished yet. An artist is a dreamer, he hopes to be

 in what field did he succeed. He is an artist from

 of birth.

 He lives in some government house because he lost his house and

 dog, because years ago, in the year 2000, psychologically

 got sick. If you are an artist, you are one in every field.

 He then stood up for the truth. Because

 he did nothing else but draw, paint and sell

 marijuana. Some of his paintings were stolen because they were

 so good, but he can’t live on it, from

 a compliment, I mean.

 He lived in an older house, first floor

 was his, from the dog, girlfriend, friends and

 weed buyers. One day he got some

 literature, which she just took away, is next to it, of course

 smoked excessive amounts of weed. I think so

 was driving the artist himself to the edge of his mind, but searching

 it’s just the truth.

 He made so much money with weed that it can be normal

 he lived, but he also drank, preferably beer. I used to

 visited him. I can write about him because

 because only I know him. Maybe I’m wrong, but

 no one else knows him. Now he has a little

 friends, except me, and anyone else, including the one who

 he screwed him over today and didn’t bring him any money.

 When he indulged too much in strange literature,

 it became increasingly clear to him, he managed to escape

 to a normally functioning brain and started

 use much more, but he did not know that this

 the area is guarded by space police. These are some

 forces, supernatural, but coming from the air.

 There is something about the artist on his way

 diverted, he had to hide and so he broke

 the window in the balcony door so he could hide.

 Then they found him and took him sick to prison.

Before that, he and his friend went for a little ride with a Vespa

 a trip through the valley. They drank a liter of homemade beer

 wine and smoked one joint. It’s all done

 happened in front of a cottage. It happened later

 the artist was almost poisoned by putting some in his mouth

 the nuts that were set there, he almost died,

 for there was a strong poison in them. He saved himself by doing so

 he rinsed his mouth with a lot of water from the well,

 on which water-lilies floated. At the beginning of their

 someone tried to kill them with a white van,

 it was missing by a hair.

 Alas, before the cottage everything was strange,

 new enclosures were erected, within which

 there were deer, sheep and other animals, it looked like

 that they are waiting for Noah’s ark. By the wall of the cottage

 but one large white egg was exhibited, for

 but to them it was a picture of a black mustang. Took her away

 they went to a valley where a guy had a lot of wood

 the house by the stream. There were two Russians there, one in

 made a small pool out of stones for the stream, well yes,

 I was also there, but there is a red carpet

 was appointed as an artist. He was the only one who

 he managed to walk without his head around. He was

 always in a state of meditation. The others did not know v

 which dimension it is located on.

 There was another fierce dog that he owned

 locked in the house. Then we left, but he is an artist

 began to doubt his friend, if he really is a friend and for

 which side works. They had a fight on the way

 his friend didn’t understand him, then they got into a fight.

 It was near a forest when my friend stepped

 to him and wanted to fight but the artist with

 threw all the force to the ground. 10 flew out of the forest

 of bats. The artist could not believe it. Thought

 is, what if I’m a vampire, or was one in

 previous life. When he was reading books at home,

 wanted to know only the truth and nothing else,

 but now, after four years, he is engaged in writing,

 like me.