My Depressed Artist

My Depressed Artist needed a hat that they liked to sit and look at. It might have been a strange thought, to me and my husband, but not to the Artist, who considered that the idea was exciting. Remarkably, a hat was the chosen thing.

My Depressed Artist often carried a block of cheese that they sometimes demolish. This is certainly a fairly weird exercise, to my children, but not to the Artist, who felt that the idea was exciting. Who would have imagined, a block of cheese would be the item that was selected.

My Depressed Artist desired a pen that they liked to watch for 10 minutes every morning. This might appear to be a fairly surprising exercise, to me and my parents, but not to the Artist, who had decided that the idea was stunning. Who would have imagined, a pen would be the item that was selected.

My Depressed Artist wanted a bag of flour that they sometimes worship. This might appear to be a fairly different action, to my grandpa, but not to the Artist, who had decided that it was in fact, miraculous. Who would have thought, a bag of flour was the thing that was chosen.

My Depressed Artist desperately looked for a bag of poop to watch for 10 minutes every morning. This is certainly a fairly funny suggestion, to most, but not to the Artist, who thought that this idea was magnificent. Who would have imagined, a bag of poop is the thing to opt for.

My Depressed Artist desperately looked for a ball that they would sometimes demolish. It would be a surprising exercise, to my mum, but not to the Artist, who thinks that the idea was epic. Honestly, a ball would be the item that was chosen.