It was about 2 in the morning. I was half asleep in the studio, feet up on an old stool half regretting that I hadn't walked home earlier. The window was wide open and the sounds and smells from Caroline St drifted up along with a completely anonymous bass line pumping through the building from Tantra, the lap dancing club 3 floors down.
I was drifting in and out - I jumped as someone tapped the door - It was Dr Franklyn; a bottle of wine and a bag of pastries. He’d just walked up 5 floors, past the pulsating madness of Club Tantra and wasn’t even out of breath.
I just stood there trying to wake up - all he said was ...
'Saw your light on laddy.' and proceeded to clean two coffee stained cups while looking around. He poured, handed one to me and sat slowly in the swivel chair.
'Quiet night on the painting front?... have a Danish!'
I was sleepily grinning - 'Hmmmmm yes, sort of - I've come to a stop on that thing there.' Pointing to a canvas.
'And there's another five of 'em stacked over there - driving me crazy - been here since two this afternoon and not done a stroke.'
'Ahhhhh...' he said like a slow rattle, peering at the canvas, then again, but longer. and slower 'Ahhhhhhhhhh...' and topped his glass up. I hadn’t touched mine yet, I moved to the window to get a blast of night air and he talked over his shoulder while continuing to peer at the canvas.
‘This stuff belongs with those drawings there doesn't it?’
'Yep' slurp.
' Hmmmm, haven’t been up here for weeks. What do you call them?'
'We Enter As Animals.'
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