Sorry George.

Every Sunday night Mankind falls prey to luminous screens for an hour, eyes locked, mouths agape. Anticipation runs ravenous, ritualistic. Social media trends become worshipping grounds with millions of followers chanting hymns of praise and memes. A grand proselytizing begins! And somewhere alone in the dark George feels like the loneliest man on earth.

His art has long surpassed him. The biggest show on the planet commands a universal audience while somewhere in a dark corner of George’s room, inked pages rest silently…waiting to be beckoned, to be shuffled, to be seen and heard, to be shared and enjoyed. But most of all…to be read. George let’s out a sigh.

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