Words by James WF Roberts Photography by Navarre Fenwick
Let’s get it out of the way now, the meaning of life sadly is not 42. Well, it very well might be, but how do we prescribe any sort of meaning in what can seem like a meaningless existence?
I’ve always been what you’d call an expert on the human expression, a creative genius, if you will – not that I’ve ever been one to blow my own trumpet.
What’s your number? The double entendre I fear the most.
How do you know when a politician is lying? Their lips are moving. I’ve heard this joke more times than I can count.
Here’s hoping that one day their innocent love will break down the institutions that bind them.