My dad found a vintage typewriter in his office and brought it home with intentions of putting it on display. Being the antique aficionados both of us are (the typewriter's placed on top of a vintage metal luggage / our toilet seat is made of antique wood and gold, come on.), I made it a point to find the ink, which came in the form of a two coloured ribbon. Thankfully, GP's sharp eye found us the ink at a vintage store down town & I'm now hooked on typing(with much force and skill, it isn't easy not making mistakes)
Poem: Hatred by Gwendolyn Bennett (Was expressing abit of my feelings through the literal banging like typing)
