George Chen

Dear Reader, If you are here to read something exceptionally fascinating and emotionally moving about Mr. George Chen, I regret to inform you that this be not the place or time. If I were you, and if you indeed do not wish to further indulge yourself with the horrendously morbid and disturbingly twisted life that I may seem to lead, I suggest turning to another page. However, if you are somehow fascinated by this Asian's somewhat odd and slighty amusing lifestyle, I suppose you could continue reading. George Chen was born probably around the time you were, maybe earlier, and is likely to die before you do. His family has roots in a part of a country that is surrounded entirely by water, and who's ownership is still in question. He spent his childhood in relative comfort at a house whose floorboards have since cracked and fallen but cannot be replaced. His current miserable residence sits on a blustery hill, surrounded by others just like his. To the untrained eye, Mr. Chen's hometown may not appear to be filled with secrets. But to the untrained eye there was no water on Mars, so we can discount their opinion. Though his formal training continues to be scattered to the wind, he has spent the last several eras pursuing work in the twisted and dreadfully stretched fields of science and art. These fields, different as they may be, take him to many scenes of destruction and devestation, some of which other sick individuals might feel disturbingly enjoyable. Eternally pursued by unseen spirits and insatiably inquisitive of the absurd and unexplained, a student, educator, and artist, Mr. Chen wishes you all the best.