Who else do I know that would react like that if I threw a coffee soaked cloth in his lap? -Just smear it in, baby! He glanced at it for a sec and then instinctivly rubbed his tight white jeans into a stained and brilliant nasty old shade. I did it too, and the warm fluid soon stuck to the legs like an itching old woollen bathing suit. I force myself to imagine that at least...the first thought that came to my mind was something else. The smell was pretty damn good, though.
The secret chamber in my basement is starting to become a favourite place. (Remember, that's where I cut my friends hair late one night last summer.) We collected some stylish old rags from the -90'ies, brewed a bucket of coffee and went down there with our 3 mpx pocket cameras and had a swell time. Hands on sketching at it's best. We tried the rags on in all ways possible: upside down, inside out, leaping, jumping and dancing. It was caught in a thousand frames as proof of true narcissist artistic fanaticism.
After, we printed ourselves, cut and glued, painted, drew and sprayed it into a collection. The Autumn/Winter-11 collection was emerging.
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