The color of her skin varies in the confused light of my chaotic apartment, changing from a Nescafe black to golden jasmine dried under the Sahara sun, perfect for a fresh new start. I stir it and rummage with it inside my f*cked-up mind trying to find divine inspiration that should be there to begin with...
After all good inspiration is worth more than a thausend words and Fon's nubile body the dream of any painter, especially to some halfwith ameteur nutcase artist like me, that wouldn't even fool a blind man's eye...
Fon who comes from some confusing foreign country deep inside the black man's continent and is on a short sejourn in the Low Countries, stoned out of her young mind on Kabouter grass and in the possession of three of my Indian Games, half drunk on Heineken from Cafe De Prins on the Prinsengracht and getting all the way to King Alcohol's Kindom on the bottle of Mooi Kaap red wine I bought at the Appie Heijn for my nocturnal consumption...
But a small prise tro pay for such a prize!!!
Her face looks naked and defenseless, narrower without her rimless glasses, accentuating the high nervous bone structure of her African face...
If this Somali beauty leaves me tonight after this posing session it will be a nail through my Ngumbu heart...
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