Mr. Turner's winterMr. Turner shuffled into the kitchen. His old bones ached as he stooped low to escape the pain in his lower back. He gave a sigh, which was more like a growl, as he surveyed the room. A stained coffee cup was left on the table. Its liquid remained untouched. It was, by now, stone cold. The old man shuffled forward a little more, looking for the key that would let him out into the daylight. He pulled a set of keys off the kitchen bench. They had been hiding behind the fruit bowl. He separated the rust covered keys and singled out one shiny key. It had been freshly cut a week ago. He had lost his spare again.Mr. Turner's winter
Outside was an early
Just wanted to let you know, this week at Dr Sketchy's (Sat 1st Sep) we have the amazing Mistress Mandrella.. you can snap up one a ticket on our myspace profile. [link] or livejournal community page [link]
Hope to see you there!!
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What happens when Art School meets Cabaret?
Find out at Dr Sketchy's Anti-Art School Brisbane
[link]
Watching you...
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History is a commentary on the various and continuing inadequacies of men
I'm cool.
Enjoy your new account sweetheart.
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