Hurrying home on my iron invention, pedalling the pedals like mad, the headwind trying so hard to discourage me, a sleet rain in my face doing a serious job to convince me otherwise but Pas De Chance here, images in my head as always at this miserable time of year, in between trips to more hospitable climates and more enjoyable social companionship of the female gender, braving the elements and boredom of life in Amsterdam in winter...
Waking up every night in my chaotic old Amsterdam house in the dark of the night, the countless portraits of my dream world reminding me of places and foregone times,
Were Lord Morpheus was just mere seconds ago doing likewise in his limbo kingdom...
Stumbling to the toilets in the dim light of my bedside candle, side stepping the jars of dirty water containing ageless brushes once donated by good old Dad, drawings and sketches aplenty of nude models from the dusty corners of my f*cked-up crazy alcohol wrecked mind, my throat dry and sour from cheap Appie Heyn table wine - too much again of course as always at this freaking time of year...need a piss but my painful erection telling Pas De Posibilité, erotic dreams originating from times long gone and over making a simple Pee Pee session a impossible affair...
Shit, still a full three weeks and twelve hours of flying to go before paradise is back upon me...
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