2,424 words
I’m not a great connoisseur of culture or the arts. I drew as a child, won a poetry contest once, and before reading “grabbed me” at the ripe age of 26, I was as distant from them as could be. Little did I know it would eventually take hold of me. This was because our current world is bleak — and not in the Russian manner as depicted by Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. It is bleak because the stories being told today are artificial and adhere to a pruned zeitgeist being set by a small group of editors and publishers. (more…)