It is still early when I wake up again to the sounds of the clans of starlings slashing it out in their habitual sleeping tree outside my house in the interior garden, before spreading out over the city in search of food, their bird poop covering the roof windows of the care centre on the ground floor of the crappy old house I live in...
I have a faint memory of Lola leaving the house for work, a few hours earlier, her feet hardly touching the ground, a bit like she was walking on clouds despite the cascade of Spanish Red Wine we consumed, modelling for me untill she could stand on heer feet anymore, the few hours of comatose sleep after partaking in the adults only game...
A big red lipstick smacker on my left cheek I discover while covering my face with shaving cream, the only proof she was real and really here, the paintings I made of her last night not out of my fucked-up dream world but a life model in my house...
Well, it seems obvious that today's portrait is the opposite, Lord Morphius kingdom reminding me of my imminent departure for king Bhumipol's Asian realm.
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