I
felt sorry for Amber . . . a kat of the streets in Paris, 1850. I could
understand her need for absinth. She’d had a difficult childhood and
was leading a difficult life with no skills and little to work with
other than her body. She had one of those for sure, and used it when she
had to. Between customers she was grateful for a warm, dry place to
sleep . . . extremely grateful.
She was a good model and could hold still for long periods of time, the
second thing she was good at. I paid her a few centimes to sit for me
once or twice a week. It was a convenient arrangement for both of us.
Katesse and me had
a loft near the Barriére d’ Enfer. We were both artists. Katesse was
good, a bit eccentric, mad perhaps, but he created a style that would be imitated by Jackson Pollack many
decades later. He was ahead of his time.
Misfortune does not have to wait for Kat who is ahead of time.
I too, was on the cutting edge, but more successful and will tell you
more about that later . . . or should I begin my story now?
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