|
|
Post by WINN HOLDEN BRANTON. on Jun 6, 2009 22:57:04 GMT -5
Winn was Still laughing as Blake checked to see if the poor child was okay- the poor thing, yes. Oh my God, that was funny. He picked up the guitar and held it again, strummed a few random strings as he tried to pick out a rhythm- he didn't really know how to play, though, so it was just nonsense. Everything was nonsense, if you thought about it. This nonsense just couldn't be considered art...
Well, to some people it might. Not Winn, though- Art was pretty sacred to him, and he really disliked the people that claimed something was art when it was really just banging on wood, making noise, cutting your hair in public... Most pop musicians annoyed him. Performance art infuriated him. He was a pretty passionate person when it came to art of any kind.
He was about to walk over to Blake when she fell back into the tanbark, making a strange little angel out of the wood chips. Winn smiled, setting her guitar down as he laid down next to her, making a Winn angel of his own. "What am I going to do with you, Blakey poo?" He laughed for a moment, repeating it in a sing-song voice, over and over again, once he figured out it had rhymed and held some form of flow.
|
|
