blanketed in pure maddening frustration. warmed by the radiated rage in my recoiling ribs. Im dissapointed. as a man, i have discovered a line. im an adventurer and this line is my everest, awaiting my tackling. this line seperates words from art. did you catch that? i know its alot to take in. it seperates simple words from actual art. "teenink", you recognize yourself as a magazine publishing teen art but ive found nothing but words swimming in your barren pages. empty oceans in a world that in no way resembles art. stories about "going to grammas house" ha that disturbs me. to be published as art. maybe you think any mammal with an elementary level of literary education can make "art". well thats ok but i work hard to define myself, holy and set apart from that. actual art is what i create but its quality is drowned in absolute quantity. a needle in a haystack if you will. well... actually.. God made hay... to call your magazine a haystack would be heresy. im the hay in a stack of cold, sharp, emotionless needles passed off as art. 75 years ago, i submitted my writings hoping for nothing but recognition, publication, and some self worth. now i lay here on my death bed at 92. i dont have long to live but i wanted to let you all know how i feel about your art. im dissapointed. and no, i will not "check spelling & grammar". art knows no such limitations. this paragraph came from me in pure form and thats how it will stay. now lets see if you start publishing art.. your move