pictures

 It is half past midnight now and the friends have left me at the door. They stepped in to have a look at a few pictures, then they left, both on one bicycle.

The day was busy enough, there was the upstairs bathroom to be cleaned and other work to be done in thehe house. Because the son is expecting visitors, the wife is cleaning her mess in the living room. This is the first time in well over a year that these things have been done.

Not to be outdone, clean up the bathroom.

Buy some momentously cheap cloth in a shop at the corner and take it to the artist's studio. It works well as a light blockage, keeping the daylight off the small stage where all the figurines are to have their pictures taken.

Lie down on the couch, and sleep for half an hour inside the studio. Then make a telephone call and realise that the opening of the exhibition at the gallery is forgotten. Hurry to lock up the studio and to make the way to the gallery. The show there is in full swing, the place is packed. It is difficult to look at the pictures for all the people. There are so many people making intelligent comments.

The room is full of people in the know.

The artist turns up, have a longer conversation with him, afterwards go to a local place and have a pizza with the artist and his friend. She is a very pleasant person.

By the time the food is eaten, the drinks drunk and the bill paid it is midnight. The artist and his friend wheel her bicycle and keep company up to the house. They step in to look at a few pictures