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it all started on a nothing day one where the sun shines just so not too hot, not too cold, like the tea that stirred easy in the mug staring up at her & the fact that they had been friends for quite some time made it even harder for the news to travel across that café table (ever so small) like a painting extracted from Période bleue de Picasso, et la pléthore de couleurs qui avait illuminé la salle à seulement quelques minutes il ya maintenant commencer à s'estomper et terne en se fane monochromatiques de céruléen, la malachite, de la misère de béryl et de jade être fouettés en place dans un nuage assombrissement de vieillissement misère--- when the conversation begins to turn towards the death that comes next the eyes of the party being spoken to begin to wander outside the context of the table, pondering the streets outside et tout à coup une jalousie étrange de sans-abri, des prostituées, de tous ceux avec des problèmes beaucoup plus pire que ceux qui sont illustrés à la table en question commencent à inonder l'esprit du parti d'être exonérés de la relation qu'ils avaient pensé à quelques minutes il ya avait existé & une peinture d'un monde dans lequel les distractions, si plus immédiatement physique sont moins émotive à l'intérieur en raison de la nature hors de propos de frivole tels veut en comparaison avec les nécessités de la vie--- as the words being batted from the “friend” sore into the outfield, the other party’s rejection is not caught but instead, left rolling around while the runners make their way almost effortlessly round the bases, a wall is built quickly around one side of the table higher & higher, where aspects of “trust” deteriorate quicker than a sugar cube being held under a steady stream of hot water & while all the sweetness flushes down the drain et le tourment psychologique commence à s'inviter à nouveau, le parti a rejeté se demande à quel point ces murs dans la prison de Saint-Lazare apparu à la jeune génie & comment la mort horrible de son ami Casagemas bonnes mangé à lui tranquillement comme il se promenait dans les rues sous la pluie seul, un cliché jeune triste, avec rien, mais ses peintures & l'ambition de dépeindre cette douleur.
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