Hot white chocolate, periods without blood and flu.
I realized that he is a Caravaggio, in modern times and modern words but that is all I think of the one who I have no respect for.
My mother sent me a picture of my grandfather’s grave on Tuesday. After my grandmother has gone insane, almost died several deaths the last weeks (swallowing her teeth once, different fights with other ”inmates” because of a shirt that wasn’t hers anyway), she decided to remove the flowers from his soil, instead place a big tile, with a flower on top so nobody can put consolidating green on there again, so my mother says.
Otherwise art is fine with me.
My eyes are better at night still I asked for new glasses as a Christmas present.
What binds me with my Lover of pure paint is what has never bound me with anyone before, three magical L-words: Love – Loyalty – Logic