Carpoli Morue finished his latest artistic piece in April last year, and spent the remainder of that time to the present re-organizing the rest of the art gallery. After upgrading his gallery house two summers ago, Carpoli was able to devide and display his art perfectly, as he had imagined it 32 years ago, when he dreamed of becoming an artist as a child. Back then, he had been lugged around with his parents and his aunt as they traveled, to further their carpeting business, with his aunt taking him to the art galleries often, to ward off boredom.
And in those several years, he was finally accomplishing his goal. Carefully positioning the framed painting of himself painting himself, Carpoli smiled in sastisfaction, before glancing at his nails. For a second, he thought he chipped one. The painted version of himself was tall and slender, with reddish brown hair fashioned in a loose ponytail, dressed in a purple button-up shirt and khaki slacks. His eyes were blue and had a pair of stylish glasses he did'nt need, to distract onlookers away from his freckles.
Carpoli put his hands on his hips and stood back to admire his paintings, some of which were of striped deer running in fields of coral, others were of Beyonce' in a wreath of light, and a few were of pirate ships sailing at sunset, where the sun bled a glow, making the ocean look like orange juice.
Carpoli Marue sighed in pride. He was so awesome.