The Artwork that talked.

There once was a boy named Quintus Pedius and he never spoke, but he communicated daily,

He could not hear but he could understand.

He could not speak but he could communicate.

He never uttered a word yet found his own way to pass along his message.

He communicated with his eyes and his hands.

The way his fingers moved along the canvas as if they were dancing as they told their stories.

He was born into a world of words with nothing but his eyes and hands to speak for him in a time where his dilemma was unknown and misunderstood.

He was a storyteller who had never spoken.

He was a painter whose story ended way too early.

A boy whose story was too easily forgotten and lost in time.