I don’t care this is more important to me than your whole life and lives put together.
The girl says; “I want honesty.” I’m pleased to hear that, now how do you go from talent to shit.
“It serves no purpose at all,” the goyim people compliment in disguise. In other words, why would you even wanna still care for it if it has already been taken care of—”but it’s true,” isn’t. Fucking goy.
When logging out on Instagram, now, a page of a split second appears; “You need to log back in.”
Remember to include a valid email address when using the contact form so I can reply back to you. Okay. Bye.
“Painting art is dragging the paint.”
“You don’t make sense,” as much as I can’t please every single one of you neither can I nor will I ever want/need to be an attraction to anyone of you.
Let me not sound so fancy by stating that I can’t listen to anything else other than classical music while I paint. But it’s okay now, because I bet you are already all so trendy, and cool.
I am using black oil paint.
I, now, have Facebook. aminebatbouti1