They had some badass fingerpickers in the medieval days.
Bet he sounded like this:
Oops
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Musings aimed to please, inspire, take you away from this mad world and deliver you to even crazier realms.
Now readable on multiple media layers! No extra charge for nuance or meta-tropes!
Coppula eam, se non posit jocularum
Alfred E. Newman
MANIFESTO
Robin Morrison has pursued life like a senile butterfly enthusiast, rushing off without so much as a net, always feeling he's left something behind; for example, the memory of where he came from before he emerged to mate and some day die.
He is old and unwise. His sword arm is shot, and he agrees with the authorities that there's nothing like a good blaster at your side and stomping on anything that still writhes. He calls this 'writing'.
"Writing protects me from reality," he said. "Readers protect me from my creditors.
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