Ahh, local art. Simply the best. One could quote Shakespeare all day, even the most uneducated of men know that Juliet pined for her seemingly out of reach Romeo but it takes one of great intelligence to know the artist of no name. (And perhaps he had a name, I'm sure he did, maybe it was even a big one but as I do not know the man I do not know the answer to such.)

I wasn't very young when my father passed. It was only a few years ago when I was seventeen, but I do believe I could count the number of times we spoke with one another over the seventeen years in which he was a part of my life with but one hand.