All the asylum clothing is made by the patients, but sewing does not employ one's mind. After several months' confinement the thoughts of the busy world grow faint, and all the poor prisoners can do is to sit and ponder over their hopeless fate.
Artwise, I'm kind of a chameleon. I don't have an established style or anything like that.
It sounds so cliched, but I've always been kind of different. I always liked being around weird kids.
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