The Portrait Or How To Be Both Happy and Sad

Dead to the world he turned to face the wall, it was an interesting wall, it had a painting of his semi-naked ex-wife hung upon it. Usually that wall picture made him both sad and happy, but this morning he groaned like a man giving birth to an unnamed sorrow. He had become ennuied, habituated to this strange demonic world, where he was a criminal without a crime. In a strange way he longed for some jail time, just as long as he could take with him that portrait of his ex-spouse.