Good prose v Bad Prose

[Anonymous No.4317182]

I often read about good and bad prose here. However, im unsure if I really can grasp how to tell between the two. Could some anons post some examples of both good and bad prose so that I can begin to see the difference?

Unrelated pic

[Anonymous No.4317191]

It's something which you discern with your own sense after going through many books. Some types of prose with may widely be considered bad though include purple prose and a lack of subtext (though always using Show not Tell is kind of retarded).

[Anonymous No.4317193]

You never read anything posted by a guy on lit have you?

[Anonymous No.4317194]

>>4317191
>purple prose and a lack of subtext (though always using Show not Tell is kind of retarded).

Any examples?

[Anonymous No.4317197]

Good prose is what you like. Bad prose is what you don't like.

It's simple, really.

[Anonymous No.4317198]

>>4317194

[Anonymous No.4317200]

>>4317198
Woops forgot pic

[Anonymous No.4317203]

>>4317197
So if I like the shittiest prose ever written, I.e. something by Ayn Rand, it magically becomes good? Ah, thanks for clearing that up, Anonymous. I'll be heading back to reddit now.

[Anonymous No.4317208]

Anyone has that excerpt from that story that went "her legs were a toaster, her breasts a WWII bomber, her face was like a phone booth"?

Sounds relevant to the thread considering >>4317191.

[Anonymous No.4317210]

>>4317197
>>4317203
There are 4 types of prose

1. The good prose you like that other people like
2. The bad prose you don't like that other people like
3. The good prose you like that other people don't like
4. The bad prose you like that other people don't like

An author should learn how to do 1 and 2. What constitutes this though depends on the mass consciousness. Early romantic writers are more descriptive and purple as opposed to today.

[Anonymous No.4317211]

>>4317200
>Her hair was a helmet, a hood, the cowl of a monk, magician or cobra.

Whatthefuckisthis

[Anonymous No.4317214]

>>4317210
4. The bad prose you DONT like that other people like

[Anonymous No.4317216]

>>4317200
ohhh fug D-:
Nevermind.

[Anonymous No.4317218]

>>4317214
Shit I am stoned as fuck
4. The bad prose you don't like that other people don't like.

[Anonymous No.4317221]

>>4317210
5. The bad prose that good people like that bad you don't like that is good

[Anonymous No.4317225]

>>4317221
6. The good prose that bad people like that you don't really have an opinion about because you only read it once back in sixth grade for a book report you got a C+ on

[Anonymous No.4317227]

>>4317200
Now someone post some good prose to balance this out.

[Anonymous No.4317231]

>>4317227
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.

[Anonymous No.4317232]

>>4317200
I may actually start quoting this irl

[Anonymous No.4317242]

>>4317200
>Forced to flee Tamlaght, Bronwyn finds refuge with her uncle, King Felix of Londeac. She continues to scheme ways to undo the villians who have all but ruined her homeland. She is amazed at the level of scientific and technological progress in Londeac, compared to her own country, where intellectual advancement is systematically stifled. She makes a new ally in the person of the director of a scientific academy: Professor Wittenoom. Treacherously betrayed, she flees Londeac in a hair-raising balloon/dirigible chase, only to fall into the hands of the faerie king, Spikenard. Later meeting a man she believes she is in love with, she is finally able to raise both an army and a navy, and leads an invasion of Tamlaght

[Anonymous No.4317245]

My prose.

You folded your leg, right foot to left knee. You laughed at my back, said you could not believe how violent I could be just brushing my teeth.

[Anonymous No.4317251]

>>4317200
Is it bad of me that I needed to force myself to re-read about 50% of the text just to make sure I was understanding phrases correctly?

[Anonymous No.4317263]

>>4317251
No. That's why it's considered bad prose. Good prose doesn't mean forcing as many adjectives into a sentence as possible, it means being able to effectively convey your point.

[Anonymous No.4317270]

>>4317263
Excuse my next question, I'm fairly pleb when it comes to literature. Is the reason that Joyce is considered one of, or even by some folks, the best writer of all time because his works, while they were difficult to understand in one sitting, were more about the creative/artistic process than the works themselves?

>inb4 shitstorm

[Anonymous No.4317285]

>>4317270
If I'm understanding what you're asking, then yes. No one reads Ulysses for its gripping story, they read it because of it's experimentation and prose.

[Anonymous No.4317386]

Fuck prose.

[Anonymous No.4317389]

THis is good prose:

I went to the store. There were many items in the store. There was pepperoni, cream cheese, cereal among other things. At the store I saw Megan.
"Hi Megan!" I said.
"Hi!" She said back. She knew who I was.
I first met Megan in High School, when she enrolled as a new student. I thought she was very beautiful from the first time I met her. And then as time passed I started to fall more and more in love with her, but never told her.


See? It doesn't need to be complex.

[Anonymous No.4317405]

>>4317389
You can do better.

[Anonymous No.4317416]

>>4317389
This is not good prose, master baitman

[Anonymous No.4317434]

>>4317389
>I went to the store. There were many items in the store.
Redundant.

>There was pepperoni, cream cheese, cereal among other things.
Irrelevant, and contributes nothing to the atmosphere.

>At the store
Redundant.

>I saw Megan.
Vague.

>"Hi Megan!" I said.
Boring. No atmosphere, tension or sense of purpose.

>"Hi!"
Redundant. Fuck your exclamation points. Also boring with no atmosphere, tension or sense of purpose.

>She said back.
Terrible.

> She knew who I was.
Awful.

>I first met Megan
Redundant.

>in High School
Hamfisted exposition.

>when she enrolled as a new student
Redundant.

>I thought she was very beautiful from the first time I met her. And then as time passed I started to fall more and more in love with her, but never told her.
Cliche. Hamfisted exposition. No atmosphere or feeling. Poor punctuation, grammar and sentence structure.

Where's the story? Where's the atmosphere? Where's the purpose? Where's the tension? Where's the motivation? Where's the life?

[Anonymous No.4317446]

>>4317434
lol explained it better than I ever could. Good job.

[Anonymous No.4317462]

>>4317434
F U.

The story is the life in itself.

Whyn don't you go back to your little beautiful prose land and frolick with all the beautiful creatures there because AESTHETICITY IS SO VALUED AND NICE!

[Anonymous No.4317468]

This is good prose.

I drove from the service, spent in my seat. My woman beside me, a clutch of hydrangeas, a strange sort of peace. In loss I'm made certain; unveiled clarity. It's you I will marry, my lover, my family, you always will be.

[Anonymous No.4317470]

>>4317227
“Never let me go,” she whispered in his ears. Two bodies merged into one in
a field of carnations, as the shadows cast by the melting sun shortened. In
a naked embrace the shadow stayed as one in submission to the peril that
surrounded them. Holding on to what they knew to be good, to grant each other
a warm remembrance in what they saw as the final moments of their lives. Beyond
their inevitable separation mattered little now. For in that embrace they lived
forever within a secret world that only existed within their minds. Deluding
themselves with the gift of utmost security, where nothing could pry the hold of
a lover’s final cry.

[Anonymous No.4317471]

>>4317468
>I drove from the service
Stopped reading right there.

[Anonymous No.4317474]

>>4317434
D+, see me after class.

>I went to the store.
Existential dread incoming. A store is a capitalist haven, and obviously the protagonist is going to have trouble coming to grips with his understanding that he participate sin a capitalist system that takes advantage of the third-world poor.

>There were many items in the store.
This enhances the intent of the previous sentence; the protagonist is under duress to choose, except all his choices will amount to, fundamentally, the same thing. How can a man conduct himself when he is doomed?

>There was pepperoni, cream cheese, cereal among other things.
A meat, a dairy product, and "cereal," all equally representative of the capitalist destruction of ecosystems worldwide. There's no room for subtlety here. The author is obviously going all out.

>At the store I saw Megan.
Suddenly (as in real life), we find our protagonist encounters his love interest. The shortness of the sentence gives the reader a sense of urgency which lesser writers almost always fail to portray.

>"Hi Megan!" I said.
We can infer from this passage that the protagonist is a real go-getter, having spoken to Megan before she speaks to him. However, how can we reconcile his Type-A personality with his inability to choose what to buy at the store? Obviously our protagonist has more depth than we realized at first glance.

>"Hi!" She said back. She knew who I was.
Megan becomes a mirror through which our protagonist sees himself. Evidently her protagonist cares a great deal about his appearance, and it is through Megan that he is able to see himself for what he truly is: a man in love.

>I first met Megan in High School, when she enrolled as a new student.
Megan enrolls as a "new student," a representation of the post-capitalist paradise which our protagonist strives for (futilely?), and she (very cleverly!) met our protagonist in "High School" (slang for a ganja party for first-time marijuana smokers).

>I thought she was very beautiful from the first time I met her.
Our protagonist, like any normal human being, envisions his love interest, Megan, the post-capitalist utopia, however he is for obvious reasons (government subjugation, domineering economic modes, patriarchy) unable to "make a move" upon her.

>And then as time passed I started to fall more and more in love with her, but never told her.
Aha, and here is the master stroke by our author. Who among us has not fallen in love with a perfect world, only to forsake it in favor of our current existence, where we need not "tell" anyone anything? Our protagonist is silenced by his own humanity which, despite its constant striving, cannot be, indeed, refuses to be, perfect.

Anyone who cannot plumb the depths of this passage should leave literature to the adults, thank you very much.

[Anonymous No.4317475]

>>4317470
I'm not buying it.

[Anonymous No.4317476]

>>4317474
I lol'd

[Anonymous No.4317479]

>>4317474

[Anonymous No.4317483]

to be completely honest i also find it hard to see the difference or identify bad prose in general, unless it's extremely obvious (like from those "self-published" threads lol) and I read quite a lot.

I usually find myself thinking complex = good, simple = bad lol

so i can't help you with this bro

[Anonymous No.4317509]

>>4317475
Why do you feel that way?

[Anonymous No.4317519]

>>4317389

I'd slept in that Monday; my alarm clock died. Or hell, maybe I just forgot to set it. Either way, it's dead now, and my week still hadn't recovered. Which is why I'm spending your Friday night shopping for groceries.
Used to be I'd stumble in with my friends at this hour, looking for mixers and munchies before fucking off to a park somewhere to shoot the shit and make out. But we've since been replaced by the younger generation. As if looking at them wasn't enough to make me feel old, I found myself fighting the urge to tell them to pipe down.
So I pushed on past the confectionary aisle. I'm here for toilet paper and toothpaste.
Of course, they carry about a thousand different kinds. And I looked through them all, trying to find the best value for money. Mostly trying not to space out.

When I heard her voice, for a moment I thought it was in my head. Just the nostalgia getting to me. Just the crappy week. But a tap on the shoulder and there she was.
"Megan?"
"I thought that was you!"
She swooped in for a hug before I'd even gotten my bearings. I'm not sure I returned it.
"Man, it's been so long," she said. A hair was stuck on her lipstick. "How've you been?"
So I lied.
I'm not sure how long we talked, but I know I didn't say much. She told me about what she'd been doing with her life; the things she'd studied, the jobs she'd taken, the places she'd been. I mostly just nodded, same goofy grin on my face and light thump in my chest as the last time I saw her; back when we'd trawl the confectionary aisle.
I'm not sure exactly what she said, but I think I heard the words "boyfriend" and "birthday." There was a bag of raspberry liquorice in her hands. She'd always hated raspberry liquorice.

And as quick as she came, she was gone.

A couple of kids from the confectionary aisle had snuck away from their friends, keeping each other warm in the frozen foods section.
I decide to go with Sorbent and Colegate.
I think I might have enough left for some bread.

[Anonymous No.4317526]

>>4317509
Hey, if this is an accurate description of how you experience reality then more power to you. For me though, it's just not realistic.

[Anonymous No.4317533]

>>4317227
Those short descriptive prose sections in Hemmingway's The Snows of Kilimanjaro

"Now in his mind he saw a railway station at Karagatch and he was standing with his pack and that was the headlight of the Simplon-Offent cutting the dark now and he was leaving Thrace then after the retreat. That was one of the things he had saved to write, with, in the morning at breakfast, looking out the window and seeing snow on the mountains in Bulgaffa and Nansen's Secretary asking the old man if it were snow and the old man looking at it and saying, No, that's not snow. It's too early for snow. And the Secretary repeating to the other girls, No, you see. It's not snow and them all saying, It's not snow we were mistaken. But it was the snow all right and he sent them on into it when he evolved exchange of populations. And it was snow they tramped along in until they died that winter.

It was snow too that fell all Christmas week that year up in the Gauertal, that year they lived in the woodcutter's house with the big square porcelain stove that filled half the room, and they slept on mattresses filled with beech leaves, the time the deserter came with his feet bloody in the snow. He said the police were right behind him and they gave him woolen socks and held the gendarmes talking until the tracks had drifted over.

In Schrunz, on Christmas day, the snow was so bright it hurt your eyes when you looked out from the Weinstube and saw every one coming home from church. That was where they walked up the sleigh-smoothed urine-yellowed road along the river with the steep pine hills, skis heavy on the shoulder, and where they ran down the glacier above the Madlenerhaus, the snow as smooth to see as cake frosting and as light as powder and he remembered the noiseless rush the speed made as you dropped down like a bird.

They were snow-bound a week in the Madlenerhaus that time in the blizzard playing cards in the smoke by the lantern light and the stakes were higher all the time as Herr Lent lost more. Finally he lost it all. Everything, the Skischule money and all the season's profit and then his capital. He could see him with his long nose, picking up the cards and then opening, "Sans Voir." There was always gambling then. When there was no snow you gambled and when there was too much you gambled. He thought of all the time in his life he had spent gambling.

(cont)"

[Anonymous No.4317535]

>>4317533
(cont)
"But he had never written a line of that, nor of that cold, bright Christmas day with the mountains showing across the plain that Barker had flown across the lines to bomb the Austrian officers' leave train, machine-gunning them as they scattered and ran. He remembered Barker afterwards coming into the mess and starting to tell about it. And how quiet it got and then somebody saying, ''You bloody murderous bastard.''

Those were the same Austrians they killed then that he skied with later. No not the same. Hans, that he skied with all that year, had been in the Kaiser Jagers and when they went hunting hares together up the little valley above the saw-mill they had talked of the fighting on Pasubio and of the attack on Perticara and Asalone and he had never written a word of that. Nor of Monte Corona, nor the Sette Communi, nor of Arsiero.

How many winters had he lived in the Vorarlberg and the Arlberg? It was four and then he remembered the man who had the fox to sell when they had walked into Bludenz, that time to buy presents, and the cherry-pit taste of good kirsch, the fast-slipping rush of running powder-snow on crust, singing ''Hi! Ho! said Rolly!' ' as you ran down the last stretch to the steep drop, taking it straight, then running the orchard in three turns and out across the ditch and onto the icy road behind the inn. Knocking your bindings loose, kicking the skis free and leaning them up against the wooden wall of the inn, the lamplight coming from the window, where inside, in the smoky, new-wine smelling warmth, they were playing the accordion."

[Anonymous No.4317566]

>>4317200
Damn, I lost it at
>the fragrance of a gibbous moon

[Anonymous No.4317574]

>>4317200

Is this a real book?

[Anonymous No.4317577]

>>4317574
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6390160-silk-and-steel

[Anonymous No.4317585]

>>4317577
>was actually republished
Holy shit. I hope that was because of the so-bad-it's-good reputation.

[Anonymous No.4317602]

>>4317474
Ah, this makes me remember my junior year english teacher.

>500 word short story read in class
>5000 word critique due the next day

[Anonymous No.4317840]

>>4317519
Woah

[Anonymous No.4317896]

>>4317519
Loving this. Have you written anything else? Can I read it?

[Anonymous No.4317898]

>>4317519
Sartre, I thought you were dead!

[Anonymous No.4317923]

>>4317840
>>4317896
>>4317898

Well golly, I only switched from scripts to prose like a week ago, my ego's gonna eat well tonight.

Don't have any other stuff handy to show at the moment though.

[Anonymous No.4318013]

>>4317923
Go write a novel, ASAP. Godspeed Anonymous.

[Anonymous No.4318039]

How to create atmosphere without being too flowerly?

Thoughts on adverbs?

[Anonymous No.4318074]

>>4318013

I am as we speak, friend.
But it's just a YA (blackish) comedy.
Maybe I'll try and thumbnail out some more ambitious stuff for the future.

[Anonymous No.4318097]

>>4317519
>conversational
>fragments, fragments everywhere
into the bargain bin it goes

[Anonymous No.4318114]

I know that it's impossible to know other people's thoughts. I know that they can't all be thinking about me all of the time. I know that I am being unreasonable. I know these things, but do not believe them. Once a week I write this doctor a check and she pretends to understand me for fifty minutes.

"Two sessions a week are only for clients in crisis. Are you in Crisis?" She stared at me while I thought about the question. Sometimes I catch her watching my hands as they fumble with the tongue of my boot, but this time her eyes and mine had met. I allowed the notion of a crisis to roll around in my head for a moment too long, her impatience caused the room to shrink.

"Once a week should be okay," I lied again. The previous lie had been a diagram of the route I had taken to her office; crisis after crisis. Now, too easily, she had tricked me into denying my own tragedy. She was a professional after all.

[Anonymous No.4318308]

ITT: muh prose

Saying "oh dats good prowse!" is the same as people who say shit like "Morgan Freeman is such a great actor." Completely vapid and subjective. Or it's a statement that's impossible to disagree with. IN other words someone is being lazy and falls back on these two word phrases in an attempt to sound like they know what they're talking about when really they don't.

Fuck you and your prose.

[Anonymous No.4318339]

>>4318308
>implying there's not technical skill and know-how involved with acting, the same way there is with writing and indeed all creative endeavours
>implying something being subjective means it can't be learned, improved and critiqued

"I don't like that dress" is a simple opinion.
"That dress' hem length would really accentuate your legs" is a matter of technical understanding as to how clothing design works. It doesn't mean you have to like the dress.

Bitching about subjectivity in a creative field is about the most inane thing you can do. At least flipping off the blind can get a laugh.

[Anonymous No.4318526]

>>4317200

[Anonymous No.4318539]

>>4318308
You're an idiot.

[Anonymous No.4318546]

Read Lolita if you want perfect prose

[Anonymous No.4318554]

>>4318546
This.

But the prose in Lolita is only made perfect by it's tragic/ironic subtext.

[Anonymous No.4318569]

>>4318339
>>implying
>"I don't like that dress" is a simple opinion.
I agree. So does my post chiding muh prose-type people. I'm not all implying that works of literature, art, dreses, etc. cannot me critiqued through a technical understanding. I'm just against people that ejaculate "muh prose" for everything they like and "shitty prose," for everything that bores them.

To use your example: OP was basically asking to see your dress. Whoever shows OP a dress is really just saying "Ow, like this!" there's nothing critical or technical with this, it's just slobs that wanna show off what they like and their "good" taste.

>>4318539
Your prose sucks.

[Anonymous No.4318600]

>>4317200
>Her tongue was a ferret...

Okay

[Anonymous No.4318609]

>>4318097
What is preferred? Non fragmented conversation from start to finish? Not everyone is Dostoevsky, brah.

[Anonymous No.4318611]

>>4317182
>purple prose
What's that?

[Anonymous No.4318620]

>>4317200
>Her, they, her, they, her, they, her, they

[Anonymous No.4318627]

Just read any visual novel. That's bad prose.

[Anonymous No.4318655]

>>4318627
Holy shit you're right

[Anonymous No.4318672]

>>4318627
ie cinematic prose.

[Anonymous No.4318708]

>>4318627
Little unfair to judge on translations, especially when they're almost always done by fans or really shitty professionals.

[Anonymous No.4318717]

>>4318708
I would say it's more that the problem lies in the two-dimensional Japanese language.

[Anonymous No.4318736]

>>4317462
towelin pls

[Anonymous No.4318738]

>>4318308
all prose is equal, but some prose is more equal than others

[Anonymous No.4318743]

>>4318611
Prose which is obviously over explanatory or adjective heavy I think. Non-purple would be, "James tiredly walked into the classroom". Purple might be, "Exhausted and melancholy, James slouchy strode into the classroom, gazing at his fellow classmates sitting at their desks, who looked back at him with equally fatigued faces".

[Anonymous No.4318774]

Wouldn't it be better to distinguish between effective prose and ineffective prose?
I know that faggots advocating for death of the author are blind to this, but I feel it's a better start than trying to make a distinction that has became pointless and arbitrary due to subjectivity.

>>4318717
>tfw the most complex writing coming from japan you're aware of are the lyrics from Dir En Grey
>all is wordplays and shoehorned german and bad latin
Granted, they are pretty good for rock lyrics but this is just humiliating for them.

[Anonymous No.4319840]

>>4318569
>To use your example: OP was basically asking to see your dress. Whoever shows OP a dress is really just saying "Ow, like this!" there's nothing critical or technical with this, it's just slobs that wanna show off what they like and their "good" taste.

What's wrong with trying to stimulate a discussion? Getting people actually thinking about the prose they read and asking themselves what makes them like or dislike it, asking themselves how it works to tell the story, comparing different kinds of prose amongst each other, gathering around the campfire to enjoy a hilariously purple page from a so-bad-its-good book.
There's nothing wrong with telling someone their dress looks great and asking where they got it. It's a pretty typical conversation.

Maybe instead of just pissing on the thread and telling everyone to stop talking, you should try to offer a more productive angle of discussion that people can drift to.

[Anonymous No.4320869]

>>4317200
>lost at
>her hair was the color of leopard tongue

[Anonymous No.4320925]

>>4318743
>adverbs
>tiredly, of all adverbs

ew

[Anonymous No.4321236]

>>4317200
I want to see an artist depict this paragraph literally to see what kind of lovecraftian beast heralds from this purple barginbin erotica.

[Anonymous No.4321312]

>>4318717
>Two-dimensional Japanese language
ok

[Anonymous No.4321862]

>>4317182

Hope this helps OP

[Anonymous No.4321872]

>>4317389
>I went to the store. There were many items in the store
Stopped reading there.

[Anonymous No.4321885]

>>4317519
Grammar as a whole is pretty terrible, this would have been good otherwise. Keep trying.

[Anonymous No.4321935]

>>4318308
curse you postmodernism ;_;

[Anonymous No.4321939]

>>4317474
on a scale from 1 to oh fuck spacetime is an 11-D hyperloop, how high are you right now?

[Anonymous No.4323567]

>>4321885

Yeah, I no paid attention in school, kind of need to bone up on the technical side of things. Is it mainly the fragment issue, or do I basically need to re-take Year 3?

[Anonymous No.4325548]

>>4317200
>Starts describing her pubes
>It was moss on a smooth white stone
Lost my shit

[Anonymous No.4325718]

>>4317389
I can't explain why exactly, but I actually really like this

i guess it's time to read some tao

[Anonymous No.4325746]

>>4317519
Cool

[Anonymous No.4325984]

>>4317263
What about Catch-22?

[Anonymous No.4325998]

>>4317519
>semicolons

dropped

[Anonymous No.4326016]

>>4318774

The actual humiliating thing is that you think you have the experise to judge all of Japanese literary art on the basis of their pop music, cartoons, and porn games.

[Anonymous No.4326034]

>I call this piece "heroic five mans"

Paul approached the entrance to the grocery store. An old woman slowly pushed her cart down the incline of the sidewalk, impeding Paul's path.

I wish all the old people would die already, he thought.

Paul passed through the entrance to the store. The electronic sliding doors were held open by the constant stream of customers coming and going. A warm blast of strangely-scented air hit him in the face. The contrast between the artificial heat and the autumn drizzle outside instantly coated Paul's brow condensation, further adding to his suffering.

Nice weather outside huh, he overheard a man's voice say from the din of the checkout area.

Nobody wants to hear you speak, thought Paul.

It was the evening before Thanksgiving and Paul had been sent by his mother to buy canned pumpkin pie filling. He resented her for being so careless. The holidays were meant for relaxation and yet Paul was forced to leave the house and fight the crowds. He wondered which portion of the crowd were careless people like his mother, and which were turned out into this misery against their will, like himself.

[Anonymous No.4326278]

>>4326034
I like it. I like how the guy seems pathetic in his petty grievances, and yet you realise he really does have something to complain about.

[Anonymous No.4326291]

>>4326034
Purty good, anon. It flows nicely.

[Anonymous No.4326351]

>>4318672

some of the best writers had cinematic qualities. tolstoy, for instance.

[Anonymous No.4326409]

>>4326034

2edgy4me

[Anonymous No.4326425]

>>4326034
Nice voice, but itll be pretty difficult to keep this sort of voice good over longer pieces. Eventually hell just become whiny unless you get something else going

[Anonymous No.4327925]

> coated Paul's brow condensation, further adding to his suffering

> suffering

lol

[Anonymous No.4327947]

>>4317519

trying too hard to sound authentic

[Anonymous No.4328982]

>>4318717
I would say it's more that the problem lies in your two-dimensional intellect.