Never for a moment did I have sadness in my heart. The painting, with its depths of sadness, could not be otherwise. It is indeed inevitable. Because of the nature of the format of this writing, I understand that the forgoing sentences are fairly close to nonsensical. They have no precedent, only antecedents, but the antecedents are as yet unknown to you, yet necessary for the understanding of what you are reading. We are reading in reverse, and that is terrible for sense-making! Now, when you scroll down to read this paragraph’s precedent that reads as an antecedent, you will already know the outcome! This format absolutely murders storytelling in the aggregate. I can tell you little stories; I cannot tell you long stories. Which works out well for both of us. I was never able to tell long stories, the longest stories I could tell were two-hour(ish) stories told on stages, or 20-page poems. And I know that you are no one because no one reads my writing, and so it works out for you as well, because no one likes to read little stories, they prefer longer ones. This paragraph is an example of the wild propagation of words when they are not properly husbanded. I may as well tell you, since the wind is up and the seeds are flying every which way anyway, that I do not know if husband is verb to husbandry. I will also tell you something I have told you before (but we know how that goes), and that is this: I tried for years to write novels, I wanted so much to write novels, but I was not a novelist. It took me years to figure that one out. The good news is, I also through those years wrote poetry, and poetry is the skin of my eyes.