I have none. I'd rather be a riddle than a novel. My life is a giant plot hole, anyways. I want to be analyzed, not narrated. I want to be loved like one loves a piece of kitsch art, a silver rabbit or a cheap snowglobe. I mean a lot in how little I am.

I guess my history or herstory or theirstory could start years ago, when I first got taught about art. I viewed it with a bit of bitterness, and our teacher did the same. I hated art class while I grew up. Why would anyone, I thought, devote their time creativity?. Now I know why.

You can't make a career having sparks on your head. You have to give people those sparks. You have to channel them. You have to teach.

That's why I'm teaching you my "story," which begun in a cramped up classroom with a bitter teacher.