She hadresumed her vigil indicating he should continue skipping so, shame stillburning on his face he had begun twirling the rope again as she tut-tut...ted and told him that little girls like him shouldn't flash theirpanties. And that was when it happened. He had little stamina at thebest of times and his exertions so far had drained him. This, and MissVictoria's attack had made him tremble and his legs feel like jellywhich made it harder to keep his timing or his concentration so,inevitably, he. With a shrug, I decided that my ears needed to be free and left it down. Something I was glad of after I’d overheard a young girl tell her mother Look at the pretty cat lady, mommy! That left me with a permanent smile. After that, it was the usual haunts, my favorite book store, the thrift store (where I picked up the cutest daisy print top for only $5!), several shoe stores that made me want to empty out my bank account (I resisted the urge, but oh, it was painful), and a stop at Jack In The. Then she was tugging my shirt up being wet it wasn’t an easy task and in the process stretching my favorite turtleneck shirt didn’t seem to matter. She started working her way south with her mouth and the bloody rain still hadn’t let up and then she turned around and started to unbuckle my jeans and go on a mate hunt. My end I was faced with her dress draped in my face then it had disappeared as she lifted it up to reveal shit no knickers when did she get rid of them? She found best mate. I wondered if Picasso or Dali ever felt that way? Maybe there’s a hidden cache of Matisse paintings of dissections or lovers that he never showed anyone. The picture was of Ralph, dissected, laid bare. But when someone looked at the painting, it was me that was cut open—my heart exposed.Anyway, I was feeling like a real artist, spending eight or ten hours a day in the studio and just getting lost in the painting. I did half a dozen variations on the Tent City painting, and two of them I.