Amidst painted pictures, and long corridors of musty smelling antiques, within an old building
artists unite in constests, in color, in life.  The feeling of the art gallery, the photos
on the wall, and the faith and love in the work that they converse over is immense.  They all
share a similar passion and that is art. They thrive on painting vivid pictures so vivid that
the paint starves the canvas in description, so real the paintings come to life within a still frame.
The torn carpet, from so many people bidding on the priceless paintings and the stinch of cheap
wine, and the feeling of love, and a captivating sense of wholesome unity.  The sounds of luaghter
fill the empty halls of the old art building as cigars are passed from one another, they exchange
madened commrodery, gladened insanity, and the building is like a mother that houses, strange, eccentic
children, but the mother is very wise and old, yet full of life , and laughter.  Most are ripe with age,
but the younger artists are cocky and very knowledgeable, but they tend to make more mistakes haveing
a lack of wisdom and such that only comes with age.  To make sure that they don't get lost in their
fleeting moments of inspiration they add the wine , and cigars to heighten the intense feelings, to make
a dull moment, a full moment.  The sounds of joy and within their words, the sounds of joy within their work.
NIghts that radiate with joy and inspiration, smiles that are sharp and cutting, words that are uplifting, so
uplifting as to raise a sadened spirit, women that could tempt the devil at least. Men that could charm their way into heaven. There is no hatred there but love,
as they see the world with a scope of a child's eye, and laugh is the secure bliss of virgin nights.