It's a Small World
So I'm agonising over whether to go to the Caribbean to work in an Art gallery and who should text me but Helene. Saying "Guess what? I've been offered a job by Martine Coton working in her Gallery in the French West Indies."It's a small world.Martine was quick off the mark. No sooner had I declined the offer than she got in contact with my ex amour Helene (She's the one in "my novel". So the fact that we (Martine and I)have sat naked on the beach together doesn't count for anything? I'm gutted.I only said no tentatively not definitely. I needed time to think. To mull things over. To weigh up the pros and cons. But apparently she's exhausted. She can't continue by herself. It's too much for one person, and all the time she's selling paintings she doesn't have time to paint more. So eventually she will grind to a halt. So it seems she's flying Helene over to Guadaloupe in favour of me.Piss Shit and Arse'oles.There's a lesson to be learnt here. Grab it while the iron is hot.
I was in a nightclub tonight taking photos. This young girl ran up to me and wrapped herself round my neck, I didn't know her, but she seemed to know me. I wasn't bothered. She was just someone, anyone, a brief moment in a blink of time.But as I sit here I can smell her perfume on me. It's most disturbing. I can't even tell you what she looked like, apart from she was shorter than me by at least six inches and younger by at least twenty years. But her perfume lingers on, tormenting me. Helene wore a very similar perfume. It does stuff to you....
Rock on Dudes