ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
A story about a young poor british non-aristocratic falling in love with a young wealthy black african princess [October 2016]
The Art Of Love Atta
Dear friend,
How can i explain this feeling? The dictionary seems to let me down as it does do not have the word to capture my exact expressions.
I met one of Britain�s greatest painters, writers, poets, graphic designers. One greater than William Shakespeare and Da Vinci put together. Awesome!
Simply said, he is a highly talented genius to me. From the portraits I saw, I knew that he could paint large portraits and comics that could cover the ground wholly, create typographical letters that could cover every edge of the wall.
He is a person of such cordial sympathy, a great sense of humour and a man of remarkable benevolence.
He is extremely tall, lean, handsome, dark-haired Caucasian who possesses not only physical but abstract qualities.
Guess what? One lesson I have learnt is: never fall in love with a man nature and hard work has endowed and over-dosed with artistic qualities. This I never shall especially when it is a would -be first love.
On our first meeting, I associated his character and name with politeness when he said: `pardon me, you are a stunner and I the exact antithesis of what you find attractive in men�
`I obtained my PHD at the age of 13 he went on. I am 23 years old. I am also a computer wizard. You are into I.T . I know that I don�t possess stupendous wealth, but I can see the future with I.T. I can predict our future together with I.T like a psychic work in a renowned british I.T company. You�ve got the title, and the wealth but I am an aspiring millionaire as poor as a struggling artist�
As if his qualities weren�t remarkable enough, I was over all, impressed by his experience, display of high intelligence and his enlightened manners.
He was so direct and went on to describe intimacy thus:� sexual appetite daily if I am really into you� he suggested it knew i had no experience i was a natural he had a dog spirit i was his prey didn�t mind to have it with me in public he didn�t fucking care he turned me to his sexpot i loved missionary style
I never understood what mum meant when she said �who knows what could become of an aspiring millionaire?� I now understand. He made it crystal clear when I meant him.
Then there was this other British Aristocratic stupendously wealthy, tall, handsome dark-haired man who had a great sense of humour and also possesses not only physical but also abstract qualities greater than William Shakespeare and Da Vinci. Expectedly, his family background was also wealthy and posh.
Bryan Ferry song �Slave to love� contains some lyrics that guide me daily. It goes thus:
�To need a woman
You�ve got to know
How the strong get weak
And how the rich get poor`
My mother is right. Thanks to her for intervening: �I can�t predict a poor aspiring millionaire�s future�
He fell in love with me and so did I.
Our love, his love, care and his desire to always protect me can�t be compared to that of Jack and Rose in Titanic or with Noah and Allie in The Notebook or any other.
I call my own love, our love, our own love story is: �The Art of Love but with a happy ending.�
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