I had just moved into an upscale condo development unpacking my things in the garage when a clean cut college age fellow appeared asking me to look at a catolog for items so that he could go on a basketball trip. He claimed to be the son of someone in the development and I bit on it. I am out 38.00 and it has been two years and I still don't know how to paint. The book was supposed to tell me how. I am now a starving artist. It's better to be poor and without paints than cry..
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